


Of Books and Crime

by fanfictioniwrite



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Past Child Abuse, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 89,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictioniwrite/pseuds/fanfictioniwrite
Summary: Romania is an eccentric new student eager to make friends. Bulgaria is the school’s delinquent who hangs out with the wrong people. Against all odds they form a friendship which transforms into something more.Then there are Alin’s new friends – an adorable Italian and a stoic German; Alfred, Arthur and Francis who seem to be tangled in some sort of a love triangle. Of course there is Ivan too, who’s there to make everything all the more complicated.





	1. Alin the New Student

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this is another story about Bulgaria and Romania being classmates because it’s just so fun to write about them in a school environment. However, it is going to be different from most I’ve read. Bulgaria won’t be the usual straight A student and Romania is going to have some trouble. I hope you enjoy the different approach.  
> Human names used: Alin Popescu – Romania  
> Nikolai Ivanov – Bulgaria

 

_**Alin the New Student** _

 

Just like any other teenager to have ever lived, Alin Popescu hates new schools.

He is currently clutching his school bag as all the other students in the hallway stare at him, curiosity written over their faces. He feels as though he is part of those cheaply made high school romance comedies that are filled with clichés.

“Come on, we’ll be late!” Feliciano declares excitedly, tugging on his hand.

Feliciano is a guy he met five minutes ago (when the short Italian crashed into him while babbling on the phone about _pasta_ of all things). As it turns out they have classes together and after a brief talk the stranger already regards to him as a friend.

It makes Alin smile, after all he isn’t used to having many friends. Or better yet, _any_ friends. A few bad memories from his last school, back in Romania, flood his mind but he pushes them away and focuses on the friendly rambling of the brunette in front of him and the brightly lid American school hall.

“You’re going to like it here soo much, I swear!” Feliciano declares, enthusiasm sipping through the lightly accented words.

Alin raises an eyebrow – who in their right mind likes high school anyway? But the other seems friendly enough and he has no other choice but to follow him as he has no idea where his classroom is.

“Everyone is so nice! I’m sure you’ll love the guys! Alfred and Francis and even Arthur!” Feliciano rambles on and Alin can only guess those are his friends he’s referring to, “Oh, and Ludwig. You’ll especially like Ludwig, he’s so cool!”

 _“You sound as if you have a huge crush on this guy Ludwig.”_ Alin smirks to himself but doesn’t say anything as he’s intent on keeping the only friend he’s made so far.

When they finally enter the classroom, period has already started and his new Chemistry teacher, who looks an awful lot like a modern day reincarnation of a hippie minus the happiness, sends them an evil glare.

“Feliciano, you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t late.” The teacher sighs melodramatically but the Italian boy just offers her a bright grin in response as he heads for his desk.

He sits sits between a girl who looks like she could be related to him and a tall blonde guy with a serious expression over his face.

Alin walks to the only empty seat in the entire classroom while his classmates watch his every move intently.

The Romanian blushes as he hugs his bag tight to his chest and tries to avoid their intent gazes and _this_ is exactly why he hates new schools.

Fortunately the teacher, _Miss I-Already-Forgot-Her-Name_ , is too bored to make him present himself before the class. He sits down, bumping into the desk and nearly falling over which causes a few teens to snicker.

In the end he settles down and does his best not to draw any more attention to himself. He flips his brand new notebook open and starts taking notes.

**xxx**

Twenty minute into the period, Alin finds it hard to keep awake even though he normally enjoys the subject.

Twenty five minutes into the period, the door creeks open and a teen he hasn’t seen till then strolls in, not bothering to greet or excuse himself for being so late.

The guy is taller than him and athletic. He is wearing some worn out jeans and cheap snickers. A navy blue T-shirt showcases his muscles and contrasts against very pale skin.

His features are handsome and Alin tries to catch his eyes but the other boy doesn’t pay attention to him or anyone else for that matter.

He doesn’t so much as glance at the teacher either who just sighs and shakes her head in a disappointed manner upon looking at him. He strides into the classroom, briefly searching for a free seat.

The only one is next to Alin (no surprise there since he is the new guy – of course he doesn’t have a partner).

The stranger sits next to him, throwing his backpack on the ground casually. Apparently he has no interest in the subject whatsoever as he doesn’t even take out a notebook or a pen. Alin is starting to think maybe he has no notebook at all and that probably isn’t far from the truth.

The guy screams school delinquent and he has a very bad experience with teens like him but still he there is something inherently strange about the guy and if there is one thing in the world Alin loves more than spooky stories about vampires, it’s all things branded mystery.

The interest however is not mutual as the other doesn’t even look in his direction, opting instead to flick leisurely through his Facebook timeline.

Alin struggles between ignoring the guy or introducing himself, deciding in the end, saying hi probably wouldn’t be that bad of an idea. He musters up the courage to smile broadly at the stranger and stretches his hand for a handshake.

“Hi! My name is Alin!” he greets enthusiastically but his hand hangs awkwardly in the air as the gesture is left with no response.

The stranger’s eyes widen in surprise, as if it’s a rare occurrence for anyone to talk to him.

Alin has the time to take a closer look at him. His eyes are a unique shade of green, something he has rarely seen. A mixture of forest green with tiny flecks of turquoise here and there. He has short brown hair and his skin is pale. He can’t help but admit that the boy has nice features.

He does have, however, _asshole_ written all over them.

Finally he responds, returning the handshake.

“ _Николай Иванов_ _.”_ he states, voice low and sipped through very heavy Russian – like accent.

Alin mentally goes “Ugh-oh”. Terror slowly sleeps in his mind as he remembers the countless times he’s been in trouble with bullies at home. He remembers distinctly a Russian tourist beating him up for no other reason than being a weirdo and “looking gay”, as if that is some sort of existential sin.

“Are you Russian?” Alin asks sheepishly, voice a little uncertain as he struggles to keep the smile. His mother has always taught him to smile no matter what, in vain hope the bullies would magically vanish if they saw him being happy.

The other boy glares at him with a look that is borderline murderous.

“ _Не_.” he answers sternly in his mother tongue, as if to showcase the great insult, “I am Bulgarian.”

Alin sighs with relief. He is still mad at himself for being so awkward but at least the other is from Bulgaria which a good thing, he hopes. He has visited the country and people there are hospitable and extroverted. Well, _most_ people anyway.

“Really !? I’ve been to Bulgaria!” he exclaims, “It’s really nice there and the seaside is so beautiful in the summer!”

Nikolai doesn’t seem very flattered by the praise and only offers him a look of indifference.

“I know that.” he says nonchantly while still staring at his mobile screen.

“Yeah…I guess you do. I mean of course you’re from there so …yeah.” Alin mutters, mentally face-palming at how stupid he must sound.

He decides against talking to the stranger again even though he can’t keep his interest at bay.

Nikolai seems like the most interesting thing he’s seen in America in his brief three month stay and he can’t help the urge to get to know him even if he can’t pin point reason why. Out of everyone so far this boy seems to be the only who makes a lasting impression on him. Perhaps part of that comes from his effortless good looks but it’s not just that.

Alin studies him cautiously, hoping the other won’t notice.

There is no doubt now Nikolai is a delinquent. His entire arms are covered in tattoos in Cyrillic which is illegal since they are underage. Alin can’t understand what the tattoos say but he has a feeling it really can’t be something nice.

Furthermore, the entire way the other carries himself just screams trouble.

Alin knows he should stay away but can’t – he’s always been intrigued by people who stand out, perhaps because he himself had always failed to fit in.

“Will you stop fucking staring at me?” the stern voice suddenly breaks him away from his thoughts and he looks up only to meet a pair of green orbs, flashing with anger.

“Hey, I wasn’t staring!” Alin defends himself, voice a little harsher than intended.

“Yeah you were, you’re so weird.” Nikolai says none too quietly but before Alin can respond the teacher is already glaring at them.

“Mr. Ivanov, could you please tell me what is so important to talk about that you’re not listening to me?”

Nikolai lowers his eyes, glaring at her.

“ _Иванов_. Not Aivanov. Learn to pronounce my name at least, if you’re gonna stand there all high and mighty.” he grunts and by now the entire class is staring at them, hoping for some drama.

Apparently on top of everything else Nikolai is a trash talker. Alin wishes there was pop corn and from the look Feliciano gives him, he’s not the only one.

“Okay, Mr. _Ivanov_ ” the teacher corrects herself “Will you grace me with an answer to the chemical equation?”

The Bulgarian looks up at the white board, eyeing the scribbled words as if they can give him an answer if he just stares at them long enough. The equation is simple and Alin knows the answer by heart but doesn’t plan on telling him, not after the way the other has treated him.

“No.” he says curtly, “I don’t know it.”

Nikolai is acting like the personification of arrogance but Alin doesn’t miss the way his hands are slightly trembling. He has the feeling the other is embarrassed which seems in stark contrast with the delinquent attitude.  

“Oh, so you can’t answer – not that I am surprised.” the teacher snorts, voice venomous, “You can’t answer, you don’t take notes and of course you stroll in late like some sort of celebrity on the red carpet!” she taunts, making fun of him.

Alin doesn’t like this new teacher – sure Nikolai is obviously a horrible student but there is no need for immature taunts, especially not coming from a teacher.

“Well, you should be glad I even came to your class!” the Bulgarian shrugs her off and the class erupts into laughter.

The Chemistry teacher is red in the face with anger as Nikolai wins their little round of banter with ease. The bell rings before she can respond and the Bulgarian leaps to his feet, grabbing his beaten backpack before darting off for the door.

Alin can’t help but smile after the guy – it has been a very long time since he has met anyone to spark his interest so fast.

Too bad he is apparently king of the assholes.

**xxx**

During lunch time Feliciano invites him over to what Alin can only presume is the cool kids table. He shrugs and accepts the offer – the Italian does seem very nice after all.

His friends are the typical high school bunch – loud and obnoxious but obviously having a good time at all times.

The current topic they are discussing is the infamous Nikolai Ivanov as his little stunt during Chemistry has garnered attention.

“Dude, you’ve got stay away from him!” a tall, muscular guy named Alfred with thick glasses that look awfully good on him explains over excitedly, using his hands to wave around as if stress his point.

The American is apparently an extroverted, open minded and last but not least a very _loud_ person. Alin forces a small smile over his lips once he realizes the other is the apparent leader around. He knows he should get along with the guy but still feels like asking some questions about the apparent public enemy Nikolai.

“He doesn’t seem that bad?” he shrugs naively but all the others shake their heads in disagreement.

“You’re only saying that cause you don’t know him, _mon cher_.” Francis points out, offering him a flirty smile that makes the Romanian blush to his neck. For whatever reason everything the other says seems to have that effect.

Francis is a tall teen from France with long hair dyed blonde and a mischievous look behind his eyes that makes everyone around him a little uncomfortable, regardless of age or gender.

“Dude, I’m serious, this guy means trouble.” Alfred adds and Alin doesn’t like the sound of it. Judging by his looks the American might be friendly on the surface but seems like the guy to put up one hell of a fight if the occasion calls for it.

“What kind of trouble?” he presses on as he really wants to know more about the mysterious Bulgarian.

“Russian mob kind of trouble.” a third voice comes in and Alin looks up to see a tall, dark skinned teen with black hair.

He hasn’t met the boy until then and wonders if he hangs out with Feliciano, Alfred and the others.

“This is Sadiq from Turkey!” the Italian explains helpfully, presenting the stranger to  him, “Sadiq, this is Alin, he’s a new student from Romania.”

“Who has a really fucked up interest in Nikolai, as I’m sure you heard.” Arthur grunts, while stabbing a piece of meat with his fork as if that was the Bulgarian’s neck.

Arthur is a short Brit with unruly blonde hair and some peculiar black eyebrows which have a temper of their own. He doesn’t look all that friendly in his opinion but Alfred seems to think otherwise.

Alin is starting to understand that the guys really, _really_ don’t like Nikolai.

“Sadiq is not a fan of Nikolai, either.” Alfred adds as Sadiq doesn’t appear like a guy who talks much.

“He’s not even that much of a problem, in comparison to the people he hangs out with.” the Turk points out, voice low.

Alin looks up in his direction and takes a minute to study the Turk. Warm dark brown eyes meet his gaze and Sadiq offers a miniscule smile. Somehow the personality of the teen seems mismatched with his appearance. Sadiq is tall and muscular with chiseled features and a black goatee.

(Alin has to admit the teen is attractive, just not his type. His type looks a lot like the Bulgarian in question on the other hand)

 “I swear, that Radko guy… I’m going to murder him if he does something like that again.” Sadiq says and Alin can hear the evident threat in his voice.

He is startled by his serious tone as he starts to realize that whatever this is, it’s not some ordinary seventeen-year-old drama. The entire atmosphere is tense all of a sudden and as the Romanian looks up he notices everyone is staring blankly at their plates, desperately searching for a change of topic.

Alfred seems to see where the conversation is going so he waves a hand dismissively, apparently not a fan of anything remotely serious.

“Hey, don’t worry I’ll make sure he won’t be pulling anything like that again.” he says although he seems uncertain in his own words.

Ludwig shakes his head and Alin can tell that whatever this Radko persona did – it must be serious.

“And if he does some shit again, dude, you know I’m gonna kick his ass!” Alfred declares triumphantly (with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other) in the end, dissipating all the tension in the group.

Even Sadiq chuckles lightly at the self-proclaimed heroic declaration. Arthur can’t help but roll his eyes, amused at his best friend’s actions.

“No, don’t laugh! When I’m done with that Radko-mega-douche and Nikolai-the-drunk Ivan is gonna come beg me for mercy!” the American proclaims and something in his manners really reminds Alin of a Marvel superhero movie.

Soon enough the group falls into a discussion of mundane things – teachers, gossip, movies and video games – overall the usual things one would expect from a bunch of seventeen year olds.

Arthur and Francis get into a ridiculous fight out of nowhere, going as far threatening to murder each other. Alin is worried for a second there but then Feliciano nudges him in the ribs with a conspiring look on his face.

“Relax!” he exclaims, “In a week their fights are going to seem like background music here. These guys aaalways fight.”

Ludwig gives a solemn nod in agreement and Alin can’t help but chuckle at how serious the German is about everything. Still, he notices the way his blue eyes linger over Feliciano and this gives him an idea so he smiles to himself knowingly.

Overall, the guys seem nice. He smiles – it’s a good day. For now, he is glad he has stayed out of trouble and managed to make some friends which is an all-time high for him.

**xxx**

After the last school bell rings Alin is in a great mood so he leaps off his chair and dashes to the school hallway, not having a care in the world. He lives far away from the school but the weather is nice and the prospect of a nice, long walk makes a smile tug at his lips.

He is so busy being happy about not getting into trouble he doesn’t even notice the man he bumps into. Only problem is the other does, and by the pissed off look on his face, he definitely notices the cola Alin has just spilled all over his white T-shirt.

The Romanian looks up only to see one extremely angry teen.

He hasn’t seen the other before and spends a few seconds taking in his looks– the boy has dark brown skin and long hair which is put into dreads and tied into a pony tail. Oh, and then there is the murderous look behind his black eyes.

“Watch the fuck where you’re going!” he shouts at him and Alin already knows this isn’t ending well. He wants to slap himself from making such a stupid mistake to piss off somebody.

“Aren’t you going to apologize, you little piece of shit!?” the teen demands while Alin is frozen and can’t really think of a way out of this.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to.” he mutters, raising his hands defensively.

It seems so dumb and cliché – getting beaten up next to the school lockers and not even for some legitimate reason but simply for bumping into someone.

Then apparently this is the everyday school life.

“Oh, you didn’t mean to ? You fucking freak! What the fuck is up with the dyed hair and the weird clothes?” the other mocks him and Alin is already getting pissed off himself.

He knows he doesn’t stand a chance against the guy who is once again much taller, muscular and looks like someone who could put a fight even against Alfred (seriously why is the look so popular in this school he has to wonder). But if he’s getting beaten he might as well give the other a reason so it won’t be in vain at least.

“And the way you act – you think you’re some sort of seventeen century Romanian vampire or some shit?” by this point the boy is laughing his ass off and some other (presumably his friends if an asshole like him has any) have joined in.

“Yes.” Alin answers in a stern voice, causing the others to abruptly stop laughing and look at him “I’m totally a seventeen century Romanian vampire and if you don’t stop laughing I’m going to come to your room and drink all your blood this night.”

He knows he’s so getting his ass kicked after this and before he can even say anything else, the other guy’s fist collides with his jaw. The hit isn’t that strong as apparently he is just getting started.

“The fuck did you just say to me? You high or some shit?”

Alin closes his eyes, mentally preparing for another blow.

But the blow never comes and he hears a third voice coming in out of nowhere.

“What’s the matter – you’re too scared to fight someone who actually can fight so you’ve started picking up on some pussies?” the voice says and it actually sounds very familiar to him.

Alin opens his eyes only to see his favourite new classmate before him. The Bulgarian has a look on his face which indicates he might as well kill the other. And although Alin is glad he is pretty much saved after this he can’t help but feel extremely ashamed that he is in need of saving in the first place.

By an arrogant Bulgarian no less.

“Why the fuck do you care, Ivanov? Shouldn’t you be busy beating people up because Braginski told you so and you’re his little bitch?” the bully asks in a mocking voice as he squints his eyes at the newcomer.

“You can’t just go around beating people up who can’t even fucking defend themselves.” Nikolai deadpans, “That’s fucking disgusting.”

Alin wants to protest and say he can fight (which is kinda-sorta-but-not-really true) but keeps quiet, lest he accidentally pisses off his Bulgarian savior.

Juan chuckles, apparently amused.

“Always the idealist.” he mocks, “I wonder how you justify the shit you do all day then. Oh, don’t give me that look – everyone with a brain in this school knows what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Nikolai doesn’t respond but doesn’t deny whatever the other is referring to which alarms Alin right away.

“Well, I’m gonna let you go on this one, but only cause I get along with Braginski. Next time though, I’m gonna kick your ass, you Eastern European trash.” upon saying this Juan looks at Alin as well, indicating his shirt (which is drained in cola) isn’t forgotten.

“Looking forward to that.”  Ivanov grunts and then simply turns to walk away.

Alin stares after him, rubbing his sore jaw. He then darts off into a sprint to catch up with his apparent savior.

“Hey, wait up, damn it!” he demands, tugging on the other’s cheaply made T-shirt.

“I believe the words you’re searching for are _Thank You_.” the Bulgarian says in a sarcastic manner, not even bothering to turn around and look at him.

“Thank you.” Alin responds automatically and the words are genuine, despite having not only his jaw but even more so his ego bruised.

He doesn’t know what to say exactly, being social has never been his strong suit.

“You…didn’t have to do that. I mean, we barely know each other and you obviously don’t like me so…” Alin is hoping for the other to disagree and say he does like him but it doesn’t happen.

Nikolai is silent (something he apparently is a lot of the time) before letting a melodramatic sigh slip.

“Well, no I don’t like you. I hate weak people. But I hate it even more so when weak people get their asses kicked for no fucking reason other than some asshole’s inferiority complex and their anger issues.”

Alin has to stop in his tracks and stare at the other in disbelief. Upon first glance Nikolai does not seem like a guy to say such things, let alone say them in such an articulate manner. True, his Slavic accent is so strong he can barely understand some of the words but he is still taken aback by how intelligently the other can express himself.

Nikolai seems to guess what he was thinking by his expression.

“Oh, what, you didn’t think someone like me was capable of saying shit like this? Maybe I should switch to swearing or beat you up while we’re at it?”

Alin is worried for a second that the other is serious and that Nikolai only saved him so that he could kick ass himself but then the other offers him a small smile.

It suits him, the Romanian thinks absentmindedly. The small smile makes Ivanov’s face all the more handsome in his opinion as it softens his pale features and adds life to his green eyes.

“Relax, dude, I’m just joking. I’m not gonna hurt you. I mean that would be like beating up a girl.” Nikolai adds, wiggling his eyebrows and Alin has to wonder if the other is teasing him as it looks.

The idea seems ridiculous but then again the Bulgarian seems like such a polar person, that he wouldn’t put it pass him.

They fall into an awkward silence as they both seem to go in the same direction.

“Maybe we can go home together? Weather’s really nice today!” Alin exclaims, a little over-excitedly, already back to his cheerful disposition as if nothing has happened.

That’s the way he deals with stuff – he doesn’t.

Nikolai gives him another glance that looks an awful lot like “are you fucking kidding me”. This apparently is some sort of trademark of his.

“Aren’t we doing this already?” the taller teen questions, as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world

Alin is slightly annoyed by the whole “better than thou attitude” but the other still saved his ass so he might as well give him a second chance. Or more like a third one by this time.

“You don’t catch the bus?” he asks and hopes for a normal answer instead of a witty remark or an insult.

None of that happens and Nikolai simply grins at him, flashing pearly white smile. For a second Alin remarks to himself how easily he could get used to that smile but he quickly scorns himself for thinking this and pushes that idea into the very far away corners of his conscious where hopefully it will remain buried.

“With what money?”

The Romanian wants to slap himself for not knowing better because Nikolai is obviously very poor, judging by the torn jeans (which don’t look like this just for the sake of fashion or the rebel look every other teen is opting for) or the worn out backpack.

“Well, I really like walking so maybe we can go home together?” he suggests sheepishly, offering his classmate a pearly smile of his own.

“Maybe.” Nikolai grunts, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, almost as if acting nice might lead to him getting hurt by the other.

Once again they fall into silence and Alin finally gives up – he can’t think of another topic and doesn’t even feel like trying. He knows this by heart – he tries to be friends with people who think he is weird and shortly after his attempts are being ridiculed.

He knows better this time so he just shuts up. It’s a shame though since is interested in the Bulgarian even if he realized the other is apparently synonymous with trouble.

“By the way what’s up with the weird clothes?” as if on cue Nikolai asks, giving him a puzzled look.

Alin sighs, _“Here we go again.”_

“I just like them. Why? You’ve got a problem?” he demands, perhaps a little harsher than intended.

For someone who can’t fight he sure as hell knows how to talk as his grandfather would tell him back in Romania.

His classmate scoffs, then breaks into laughter at his antics.

“Ooh, please don’t give me that “rebel - you’ve got a problem” tone!” he says, apparently finding him funny.

Alin wants to protest but even he realizes how immature that’s going to look.

“Whatever.” he mutters instead and whatever good mood he was in is gone by this time. He really doesn’t want to get into another fight, especially with someone like the other.

After a few steps he hears Nikolai sigh and turns to look at him. The other is staring at his phone which is ringing. He looks like whoever the dialer is he really doesn’t want to pick up.

The dialer reads “Ivan Braginski”.

In the end however he does. What surprises Alin is that he speaks in Bulgarian, exclaiming something in a loud voice and using a lot of gestures. Whatever this is, it doesn’t look good.

Nikolai hangs up with another melodramatic sigh (for such a rough-around-the-edges kind of guy he does sigh and roll his eyes a lots Alin thinks, bemused).

“I gotta go. I have work to do.” the Bulgarian says simply and turns to leave, no goodbye, no nothing.

Alin  frowns – apparently the other isn’t even capable of having decent manners.

But then Nikolai turns around with a strange look on his face. It’s a mixture of uncertainty and amusement and there is something else, lingering behind his adorably crooked smirk but Alin doesn’t know him well enough to decipher it. Yet.

“Your clothes aren’t that bad. And I’m only saying this cause I don’t want you to go back and cry yourself to sleep.” he says sarcastically, a hint of mischief behind his absurdly green eyes.

His lips stretch into a devious smile and the Romanian can’t help but admit he finds the sight quite charming.

He wants to protest because he feels as if he’s being mocked again but in the end the other has saved his ass so he just rolls his eyes.

“Hey, you need me to help you out with that work you’ve got to do?” he offers before he can stops himself, hoping that maybe if he could return the favour he would be able to stop giving the other chances.

“You help me? Haha, sorry kiddo but what I’m doing…nah you definitely can’t help with it.”

With that Nikolai jolts into a sprint in the other direction and Alin is left staring at the small figure in the distance, puzzled.

He is equal parts angry, bewildered and interested in the Bulgarian. And the worst thing is – he can’t stop thinking about him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you like the story so far?  
> As mentioned Bulgaria won’t be the usual straight A student he is in most stories. I might be the only one but I don’t think that fits with him.  
> But don’t worry he will have his reasons to act the way he does and Romania well help him reform. As for the side characters – there will be a FrUk and UsUk as well as GerIta and SpaMano because these are so fun to write.  
> * About Cuba’s name – he has no confirmed one but in a 2010 blog post, Himaruya listed his possible names as Máximo, Juan, Ericemdo, and Carlos Machado.  
> Please, if you liked the story or if you didn’t share your opinion.  
> What did you think of Alin and Nikolai’s “meet cute”? And the gang being gossipy over break?
> 
> I know not many people are interested in this couple, so if you are please review!  
> Your feedback serves as a huge motivation!


	2. Play Date

 

**_Play Date_  
**

 

Alin can best describe the rest of his first week in the new school as nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing special happens and he begins to feel even a little bored. The teachers are mostly mediocre and he is starting to understand the dynamics between his classmates.

Alfred is the apparent leader in everything, questioned only by his best friend Arthur, whenever the Brit isn't busy trying to kill a certain "bloody French frog" as he so eloquently puts it.

Alin finds his newly found friends amusing and easy going and his new favourite pass time activity is betting when Ludwig and Feliciano are finally going to address the seemingly obvious to everyone but them mutual love interest.

The only thing he has an issue with is the very obvious lack of any temperamental Bulgarians in sight. Nikolai hasn't bothered to show up since Monday and now, Friday, Alin is beginning to feel a little worried about the other.

He remembers Nikolai's mysterious phone call and the job he had to do. And while Alin doesn't want to jump to conclusions, it is obvious whatever his classmate is doing, it is no good.

'Hey, Alin, you okay?" he looks up only to meet Antonio's green eyes and gives him a quick smile.

"Yeah, of course, I was just thinking." he assures in a trained voice, having learnt a long time ago that people rarely care, but almost always gossip.

Antonio is a Spanish guy who is in a secret relationship with Lovina, a very temperamental girl who looks as if she might kill him if he makes their romance public. The thing is everyone but said Lovina knows it is no secret. The Italian is Feliciano's twin sister but there is a great difference in their personalities.

"About what? Some guy?" the Spaniard questions, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "Sorry, babe but the best ones are already taken." he adds in a mocking flirtatious tone, making Alin burst out laughing at his antics.

"No, I was just think about school and you know…"

Antonio shakes his head knowingly, not buying it for a second.

"Just tell me his name." he says directly as subtlety is apparently not one of his strong suits.

Alin gives up in the end.

"Nikolai Ivanov. And no, I don't like him, I don't even know him I'm just…I don't know - he seems like a weird guy."

Antonio has a strange expression over his face, letting out a small sigh.

"Weird doesn't even begin to describe it. Look, man, I don't really know him either but there are bad rumours about Nikolai. And I don't mean bad as in he cheated on a math test, kinda bad."

"Then what?"

Antonio sighs once again.

"Well, listen. There was this one older guy – Ivan Braginski. Russian and someone you do _not_ want to mess up with. He was fucking terrible. Alfred was the only one who could stand up to him and they had a huge fight one day after Braginski beat up one other student – Feliks very badly just for being trans. Both of them got messed up but Ivan was the one to provoke it, of course."

The Romanian listens intently but he still doesn't understand.

"What does that have to do with Nikolai?" he challenges.

"Just let me finish. Anyway, in the end Ivan beat up Feliks really bad so he got expelled and still hasn't graduated even though he's older than us…but before he was expelled guess who his best buddy was?"

Alin's dark eyes widen and he shakes his head.

"No, please don't tell me it was Nikolai."

"The one and only." Antonio confirms, "But that's not all. There is this one other guy Radko – he's a damn sadist. Some say that he is even worse than Ivan. You should stay away from him no matter what. But, anyway, him, Ivan and Nikolai were kind of the monster trio around here. Then Ivan got expelled and now it is only the two of them. That doesn't stop them from causing trouble, of course."

Alin can't believe what he is hearing. He knows the Bulgarian is a delinquent and he's obviously been in a few fights but this? Hanging out with a homophobe? It seems surreal to him as it doesn't correspond with the impression he has from his classmate.

Antonio is probably exaggerating, or so he hopes.

"That's not even all of it. After Ivan was expelled, rumour has it, he took in his father's footsteps."

"And let me guess his father wasn't much of an obedient citizen?"

The Spaniard nods in agreement.

"Everyone says Ivan is connected with some really bad people and Nikolai and Radko help him out. I mean, no one knows for sure and we're still children after all, but I'm sure whatever they are up to it is no good."

Alin doesn't want to listen anymore of it and tries to quickly change the subject. He doesn't have to, however, since Lovina shows up with frown painted over her face and immediately demands her non-to-secret boyfriend's attention.

Antonio's eyes light up for her and Alin is quickly forgotten as the Spaniard pulls the other into a bone-crushing hug, burying his face into her neck. Of course that is followed by a lot of screaming and kicking on the Italian's part. Alin chuckles, making a mental that he "ships" the two.

He makes his way down the hall, trying to push away any thoughts of the Bulgarian when he hears a familiar voice and someone taps him on the shoulder.

He spins around only to meet the familiar pale face and a pair of absurdly green eyes staring at him intently.

"Hey." Nikolai greets, offering him a miniscule smile.

"Hey." the Romanian responds, struggling to look as nonchalant as possible.

"What are you up to?" the other asks in his usual strong Eastern European accent.

"Uh, not much. You know just…same old." he says, mentally face-palming at how awkward he is. He can't help but be worried however if the rumours are true since he does not want to end up being friends with a possible criminal.

The Bulgarian nods and Alin hopes that is the end of their encounter but the other doesn't back off. In the end his curiosity prevails and he questions the other.

"So, I didn't see you the other days?"

Nikolai's expression changes but he scoffs, waving his hand.

"Get used to it. Not a big fan of this place anyway." he gestures to the hall and the classrooms.

"Yeah, I guessed."

Of course Nikolai wouldn't be one to attend school much, he has delinquent written all over him.

"You wanna go grab some lunch?" Nikolai offers out of the blue and Alin stops in his tracks from surprise.

"What?"

"Do you want to go eat something?" the Bulgarian rephrases, apparently thinking the other didn't understand what he is saying.

Alin does understand him – he is used to people having strong Eastern European accents but the problem is that he doesn't know how to respond.

What if the mysterious Ivan decides to join in for lunch? Or that other dude – what was his name? What if this is a trap and Nikolai is just interested in stealing his money or worse?

No, of course that is ridiculous. He is letting Antonio's penchant for drama get to his head when after all those could just be rumors.

His mind races to find an answer but his mouth seems to speak for him instead:

"Yeah, sure." he mutters and to his surprise the Bulgarian seems somewhat pleased.

They head towards one of the cafes nearby the school in silence.

Nikolai orders and Alin is surprised at how many things he buys, having in mind that just a few days ago the other didn't have money for the bus.

"So, I'm guessing you've already heard the rumours about me." the Bulgarian says all of a sudden, making him nearly jump in his seat.

So much for subtlety.

He looks up from his plate to meet the other's bemused expression.

"What? No, I really I haven't, I mean-" he begins to mumble, not wanting to anger the other. He remembers Antonio's words about the fights and raking havoc in the school. He does not intend on getting beaten up. _Again._

Nikolai finds his discomfort hilarious ad he breaks into a heartfelt laughter.

"Oh, man you should see your face! You look as if you've seen a ghost or some shit!" he chuckles as he down a glass of beverage.

"Mmm, too bad they don't offer alcohol here. Pussies." the teen glares at the now empty glass, "In Bulgaria it wouldn't be a problem, you can get drunk at any age."

Alin doesn't doubt it – Bulgarians, just like the rest of Eastern Europe re notorious drunks and something tells him Nikolai lives up to that reputation.

He, on the other hand, is terrible with alcohol and aside from the occasional glass of wine, he would rather not drink (especially after a certain incident that involved lots of dancing, singing and pink underwear).

"I saw you talk to Antonio." the Bulgarian says, breaking the silence and looking him in the eyes.

Alin stiffens – so that is why the other invited him to lunch. He just wants to know what the others are talking behind his back. He doesn't actually care about Alin himself at all.

The Romanian can't help the wave of hurt and betrayed that washes over him. Not to mention embarrassment for thinking, even for a second, that the other was interested in him. Stupid, stupid. Why did he always have to be so stupid?

"Man, that dude's such a drama queen." Nikolai grunts.

"He seems nice." Alin forces himself to say as he clings onto the conversation as a way of not dealing with his own fucked up thoughts. Distraction, he needs distraction or else his thoughts might lead to -

The taller teen shrugs in disinterest.

"So what did he say about me?" he questions, amusement dancing behind his green eyes.

"Why do you care?" Alin questions back, feeling defensive.

The Bulgarian seems taken aback by the question, almost as if he is not used to anyone being interested in him.

It takes him a good half a minute to reply. Alin has to wonder – does the other have any friends at all? Other than his notorious partner in crime /criminal executive Ivan that is?

"I don't." he replies in a firm voice and if the Romanian looks closer into it, he could see the walls surrounding him.

Alin knows it is a lie but doesn't dare point it out.

An awkward silence falls between them as he is desperately trying to think of either a topic for them to discuss or a clever excuse to leave.

In the end he decides life is short and he might as well speak his mind.

"He said there are rumours about you. That you were involved with some really deranged dude Ivan Braginski."

Nikolai doesn't seem surprised at all and he just nods, opting to stare at the floor and firmly refusing to meet his gaze.

"That Ivan is involved with some dangerous people and he's dragged you into it as well."

The Bulgarian scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Look, whatever the Spaniard told you – he exaggerated. He does this with everything, dude lives in a fucking soap opera with that crazy chick Lovina."

Alin can see the obvious dislike the other feels for his classmates.

"And besides, they just don't understand Ivan." he ads and his expression softens, morphing into something Alin can't quite label.

Affection? Friendship? Respect? A feeling of debt towards the other guy?

Is the Bulgarian _defending_ Ivan?

"But you are not denying the rumours?" Alin asks in small voice as he clings onto the hope that maybe Antonio made that up and the Bulgarian is just waiting for a chance to clean his reputation.

Nikolai looks him in the eye for a few brief seconds, then looks a way and breaks into forced laughter.

"Look, dude, I'm not part of the fucking mafia or some shit if that's what your little brain has come up with." he says dismissively.

Alin tries to look convinced by it but fails at it miserably.

"Relax, I'm not going to kill you or whatever." the other ads, once again in a joking manner but the Romanian does not find it funny.

"And besides why do you care?" Nikolai inquires in the end, opting to use his own question against him.

"Well, I don't want any dangerous classmates. Obviously." he chuckles, trying to lighten up the atmosphere before he gets his ass kicked by a hostile Bulgarian and his even worse friend.

Nikolai gives him a poignant stare, indicating he doesn't buy it.

"I find you interesting, ok?" Alin admits in the end, exasperated, "You're just so different from anyone else in the school."

"Kinda fucked up you know." he adds, earning himself another glare from his classmate.

"Careful there, buddy, you don't want to anger a mob boss now do you?" the Bulgarian teases, mischief flashing through his uniquely coloured eyes.

"Oh, please as if you could ever be a mob boss. More like just a small, sad underling." Alin says, winking at the other.

Nikolai doesn't seem insulted at his joke and Alin likes it. People get so easily offended these days that it is fresh and exciting to meet someone who can take a joke. And the Romanian has a rather special brand of dark, cynical humour which involves lots of horror elements.

"Are you done with the interrogation?" Alin questions, still in a joking manner, "I mean that's why you invited me out – just to see what the others are saying behind your back?"

Alin hopes the other disagrees and maybe even say he finds him interesting as well but that doesn't happen. As usual he's disappointed by that's what he gets for letting himself think for a second someone might like him.

Stupid, he just feels so stupid and useless sometimes.

"Да." the Bulgarian responds, unceremonically.

 _He really is a total asshole,_ Alin proclaims the verdict, shaking his head.

"I mean it never hurts to know what the other are saying." he adds, staring out of the window, "It's good for…never mind actually."

The Romanian can't shake the underlying feeling that there is something more to his words but he forces himself to ignore it. Once again he is being a drama queen for nothing.

"But they seem nice." he opts to say, speaking of their classmates.

The brunette scoffs in apparent disagreement.

"They're all a bunch of pretentious fucking pricks." he mumbles.

"And you're better than them?" Alin questions, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't like the other's holier-than though attitude.

To his surprise, however, the other vehemently shakes his head.

"No, I never fucking said that. All I'm saying is those people might act all nice and sweet but they're _mean_."

Alin is surprised at the childish response – it seems somehow mismatched with the Bulgarian's entire persona but just as he is about to say something, he hears someone stride into the café.

He turns around, only to see a dark haired teen, dressed in an even worse manner than his classmate (as if that was even possible). The boy seems as tall as Nikolai, just as muscular.

And he doesn't seem happy. At all.

He strolls into the café, going straight to their table. As the Romanian looks closely he can see a rough looking scar, covering the other's eye and going down, almost to his chin.

 _"Oh, no."_ Alin thinks, quickly catching the drift and guessing this is apparently someone Nikolai knows. Of course.

"Get your ass up and let's get going, Ivan called." the newcomer grunts, glaring at the Bulgarian. He doesn't so much as look in his direction.

"What now?" Nikolai rolls his eyes, exasperated.

The other seems angered by his response and he narrows his one remaining dark eye. Alin is getting the expression that the two do not get along. And here he thought partners in crime had to look out for each other.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your fucking play date or whatever the fuck it is you're doing with this freak but we have work to do." he nearly shouts and Alin is taken aback by his horrible temper. Suddenly the Bulgarian looks like a little piece of sunshine in comparison.

" _Добре, де добре_." Nikolai rolls his eyes and although Alin doesn't know what that means, the other is already getting up to leave, so he follows suit.

The newcomer says something in what Alin can only assume is Bulgarian.

They walk out of the café and he feels quickly forgotten, as the two teens get into a somewhat heated discussion from which he can't comprehend a single word, other than the occasional _"Да"._

In the end Nikolai turns around, apparently having just remembered that they are not alone.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to introduce you." he says, nonchalantly and Alin feels like face palming.

"Alin, this is Radko – the biggest fucking douche in the Multi Universe."

Radko glares at him once again but he doesn't even lift a hand to greet the Romanian.

"Alin is a new student from Romania. He's our neighbour, isn't that nice?" – the Bulgarian teases, eyeing his enemy/friend/whatever-the-two-are.

Radko finally looks at him and Alin is taken aback at how much hatred there is a behind the dark eye. What has he even done wrong when they've just met? Or is that the other's attitude toe everyone and everything?

"He looks like a fucking disgrace to Romania." the boys spits and Alin can't even reply because he's so taken aback at the venom in his voice.

Seriously, did someone ate the guy's breakfast? Every morning for the last seventeen years or what?

"Radko!" the Bulgarian glares at him .

He shouts at him something which once again he doesn't understand but it sounds an awful lot like some very colourful words in his mother tongue.

The dark haired teen rolls his eyes.

"Well, I can't help if he looks fucking gay."

Alin is about to say there is nothing wrong with looking gay or being gay but then decides against as he the other seems like a hopeless homophobe anyway.

They fall into an awkward silence as they walk towards the bus. Once again Alin is surprised Nikolai has money for it but apparently, whatever his mysterious job from Monday was, it has paid off.

"So it must be nice to have another Bulgarian in class." he tells Nikolai as he tries to break the ice and make some small talk to make everything a bit less awkward.

In that moment two things happen – first Nikolai bursts into what is quite possibly the most heartfelt laughter the Romanian has ever heard and second, Radko spins around and gives him what is definitely the most murderous glare he has ever seen.

"Ahahah" the green-eyed boy can't stop laughing "Dude, dude, he took you for a Bulgarian!"

Radko is so angry he can't even form a coherent sentence, so instead he just stands there, possibly murdering Alin in his mind. It is quite the hilarious sight.

The Romanian honestly doesn't know whether to laugh, cry or straight out run for his life, as far away as possible from the two apparent lunatics.

After what seems like ages Nikolai is done laughing and he wipes off the tears from his pale face.

"Fuck you both!" Radko screams, passing angrily ahead.

"Radko isn't Bulgarian." Nikolai explains to him in the end, "He is Serbian. And Serbians hate Bulgarians. A lot."

"Oooh." is all Alin can say at this point, wondering why he always had to make friends with the two psychopaths in town.

"Hey, come on don't look as if we're trying to kill you. It'll look kinda suspicious" Nikolai says, wrapping a hand around his shoulder.

Alin stares at him, taken aback by the sudden gesture. The Bulgarian catches the drift and pulls away immediately, acting as if nothing happened. But if Alin were to be honest, he likes the contact, especially having in mind he has no friends and can't even remember the last time anyone has offered him a hug.

It makes him feel all warm and nice, _that_ kind of nice. But before he can get his thought going in _that_ direction, he shakes his head, forcing himself back to reality.

They wait for the bus and in a couple of minutes hop onto it with Ratko very poignantly ignoring them. Nikolai imitates him behind his back, making Alin laugh.

He has to wonder how can the Bulgarian be so mean and threatening one minute and then amusing and well not exactly nice … but _kind of okay_ the next?

The two teens drop off two bus stops before his own.

Nikolai offers a miniscule smile and Alin can't help but feel…glad for whatever reason. It seems nice that he is able to get along with someone as interesting as the Bulgarian even if he risks unwillingly becoming part of a crime syndicate…or whatever the other has got himself into.

As he sits alone in the bus, in the quiet September afternoon he can't help but smile. The warm sun rays tickle his face and he enjoys the orange and crimson sunset.

 _"_ _So fucking cheesy, man."_ he can almost hear Nikolai say.

He can't stop wondering about his Bulgarian classmate – who he is, what he has got himself into and just how much of what Antonio says is really true.

Alin is certain about only one thing – he loves mysteries and as cliché as it sounds Nikolai is the biggest one he has seen in a while. And he intends on solving it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, isn't going on a "play date" just awesome xD  
> Ratko = Serbia. Serbia really hates Bulgaria in the real world and this will be a point in the story but I do need Ratko as a character (because plot!). All I am going to say is that he will be part of the reason why Nikolai changes for the better.
> 
> Serbia and Romania do get along but in the story he will be Russia's right hand in this and a huge asshole, you've been warned.
> 
> So what did you think of the chapter? Alin's already falling for Nikolai but he has no idea what the other has gotten himself into. What did you think of their "play date" xD?
> 
> And about Lovina and Antonio - aren't they just adorable?
> 
> Please share your opinion, all feedback is very much appreciated!


	3. A Lesson Is Booked

 

**_A Tutoring Session Is Booked_ **

 

In the next few weeks Alin has to admit that he is becoming more and more attached to Nikolai. The Bulgarian doesn't show up every day but in the times he does, the whole atmosphere lights up for him, things seem interesting, more vivid and he can feel himself a little flustered around him.

Slowly he's becoming addicted the foul mouthed, green-eyed delinquent. And fortunately enough, the other seems to enjoy his company as well, even if he rolls his eyes most of the time and shoots him sarcastic remarks every time he say something stupid.

"Hey!" Alin greets in an enthusiastic voice upon seeing the muscular boy make his way towards him in English class, "You're late again" he remarks with a small pout.

" _Добър ден._ " Nikolai responds automatically, realizing half-way-through he's greeting him in Bulgarian and giving him a sheepish grin as he carelessly sits next to him, throwing his backpack on the floor the same way he did the first day.

"Did you write the homework?" the Romanian perks up, giving the other a questioning look as he peeks over his shoulder.

Nikolai scoffs, offering him a look that reads " _Are you kidding me?_ " before playing with his pen idly, without a care in the world. Yes, of course he's not one to bother with a homework.

Alin starts noticing details about the taller teen, which he makes a mental note not to forget, almost as if they are treasure collectibles for him.

Like, for example, Nikolai listens to rock and metal but there is some _chalga_ (as he learns the name of the music genre) poking from the corners of his media player. And then there's the fact that he literally detests American food and takes every possible occasion to praise Bulgarian one. And he, under no circumstances, would admit that baklava is Turkish. *

It's details like these that start making Alin smile and ramble about his mysterious classmate before his mother and Feliciano. The Italian seems terrified from Nikolai and often compliments him on his bravery to be around him. Alin merely rolls his eyes, of course the Bulgarian couldn't be dangerous, could he?

"Mr. Popescu, could you read the next paragraph out loud?" a loud voice tears him away from his own thoughts.

Alin turns to view the teacher who is a modern day hippie reincarnation, coupled with a better than-though view of the world. She sends him a pretentious scowl, almost as if teaching is below her level and she only does it for money. Then again, that's probably the case.

Alin offers a small nod and a precisely measured smile. He is good at making teachers like him. The only people that didn't hate him in the old school were teachers. He quickly reads through the passage, no mistakes of course.

"You certainly read very well for someone from Eastern Europe." The teacher remarks in a flat voice, racism casually poking through the liberal façade she's built around herself.

"Mr. Ivanov, you're next." She adds, sending a tired glance in the direction of the Bulgarian.

Nikolai freezes in spot and he shoots Alin a panicked look. The shorter teen frowns – panic doesn't suit him. The emotion looks almost unnatural for someone who's usually always smirking or glaring at people on the good days and kicking some ass on the bad days.

Alin pushes the textbook in his hands since of course the Bulgarian hasn't brought his own and probably doesn't even have one.

Nikolai doesn't read. The whole class starts turning head towards them, curiosity written over their faces. A minute or so passes and some start to snicker.

"We're in for a fucking show." a tall guy with light-blonde hair remarks, nudging Ludwig in the ribs.

The guy's name is Gilbert, the German's older brother as Alin finds out later. He's loud and obnoxious, quick to express his emotions, unlike his sibling. In fact, safe for their height and pale skin the two have nothing in common.

The silence stretches on and on and Arthur turns to glare at Nikolai, a cruel look written over his face. He winks at Alin but the Romanian doesn't respond, instead furrows his brows. He thought the Brit was a little narcissistic and mean but this is just low.

"Mrs. Violet, perhaps you should give the opportunity to read to someone else. Someone who you know… _can_ actually read." Arthur snickers in a sickeningly sweet voice, making Alin cringe.

But his words seem to work and it's as if Nikolai accepts an unspoken challenge and finally starts reading the paragraphs. He sounds like a child, he butchers the words and speaks as if in Bulgarian, having no regard for pronunciation.

The Romanian can feel the familiar warm feeling of pity settle in his chest.

Nikolai can hardly pronounce the damn words, effectively murdering the English language in plain daylight. It reminds him of those stereotypically made Eastern European villains he keeps seeing in American movies.

The whole class snickers and makes mean remarks. The only ones who remain silent are him, Alfred's twin brother, who everyone, even the teachers seem to ignore for whatever reason, and a short skinny kid with straight brown hair and meek green eyes, whose name he doesn't know yet.

But everyone else takes a jab at the Bulgarian's horrible reading, if it can be called that. Alin wishes he was brave or witty enough to make them stop since he knows how bad it feels to be the school's joke of the day but the words die on his lips, he's not that kind of guy.

Silently, he wishes he was. Not even for his sake but Nikolai's. It's strange how much he's come to care about the other in the span of two weeks.

"Alin, maybe you should've made friends with someone who isn't bloody retarded." Arthur grumbles in the end, nudging him in the ribs from the bank next to him.

The Romanian's dark brown eyes widen in shock at the disgusting remark but he doesn't know how to respond.

Nikolai, on the other hand does.

"Can you read Bulgarian?" the taller teen demands, voice low and threatening.

The Brit is so shocked at the fact that someone's dared question him, he doesn't even respond, dumbfounded, "Oh, you can't? How about any other Slavic language?"

The whole class's watching the exchange and the teacher seems to be enjoying the drama. Alin rolls his eyes – what is up with teachers acting more like teenagers than doing their job these days?

"What about any language other than English?" Nikolai pushes further, furious green eyes firmly set on the shorter teen.

Arthur is becoming as red as a tomato in the face, fists curled into balls from anger. Still, he remains silent since if he swears at the other, he knows he's be getting detention. And he can't allow that, he does aim for a perfect record after all (because he definitely can't let Francis or Ludwig have higher grades than him!)

"Well then since you can't speak any other language, maybe you should get off your fucking high horse."

"Mr. Ivanov, that's enough." The teacher finally declares as she doesn't like her favourite going down.

"How about you?" the Bulgarian challenges and Alin wants to facepalm.

Is Nikolai begging to not pass the subject? Because it looks a lot like it. How can anyone be so impulsive and reckless? Alin puts a hand over his shoulder but the Bulgarian shakes it off.

"Oh, man shit got real!" Gilbert exclaims in an overexcited manner while Ludwig sends him a death glare that makes him fall quiet and prevents any further witty remarks.

"Mr. Ivanov, I'm going to ask you to leave."

"With pleasure." Nikolai deadpans, grabs his backpack and stomps out of the classroom, leaving everyone else laughing their asses off.

"I am so disappointed in you." Alfred whispers to Arthur but of course the American simply can't whisper and it sounds more like he's telling it to the entire class.

Alin turns to face the two blonde teens, Arthur grumbling something under his breath while Alfred looks betrayed by his friend's actions. It makes him think - is it possible there's something going on there? There are some rumours that the two are more than friends and that the American wants to make it official but Alin doesn't know for sure.

"Mon cher, you screwed up." Francis pokes at the Brit, a devious look painted behind his mischievous blue eyes.

"Shut up you bloody French frog." Arthur grunts and Alin mentally remarks that he would be entertained by the love-triangle-like dynamics between the trio if he wasn't busy being pissed off at the Brit.

 

**xxx**

 

The moment the bell rings Alin darts from his seat in search for the temperamental teen. He doesn't have to search for too long since he meets him in front of the school, talking on the phone with Ivan in what sounds like a mix of Bulgarian and Russian, garnered with a lot of swearing.

" _Да, добре, разбрах те_." Nikolai says curtly and hang ups, just in time.

Alin doesn't wait for an invitation and sits on the steps next to him, perhaps a little too close. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind.

"So, did you like the show?" the Bulgarian asks in the end, turning to him with a smirk.

The Romanian can read right through it, he can see the mask the other's putting on, the role of the macho teen who doesn't care about anything. And he's not buying it.

Nikolai…how well can you read?" he asks while he has the courage to. The question should be unnecessary because he already knows how bad the other was at the task but still, something stops Alin from criticizing.

He can already read the answer in the other's cold green eyes which flash with anger but even more so shame.

Nikolai shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I can read fucking perfectly well!" he grunts, choosing not to look at him but instead fixate on the late flowers, blooming nearby.

Alin sighs, moving closer to him and waiting for a few moments for the other to cool off. When Nikolai backs away he's not surprised but he is a little hurt. Then again he is used to people pushing him away, so in reality it's nothing new. Not something to get himself worked up for even if he does.

"I don't mean in Bulgarian. I know you're good at reading and writing in your mother tongue…but I mean in English."

Nikolai doesn't say anything, he just stares at something which Alin can't see. That, or he is just trying to avoid the question. He is starting to lose patience but he forces himself to remain silent.

"It's just…English is so fucking different. It doesn't make any sense to me." – Nikolai says in the end, rewarding his patience. Once again he doesn't look at him and his voice is low and flat. If Alin wasn't listening so intently, he wouldn't have even heard him.

The answer speaks volumes and he can't help but feel a tiny, little bit special that the other has shared something with him. It's stupid and pathetic because they're not even friends and for all he knows Nikolai might be part of the mafia. Still, he already treats the other like some sort of anchor, something he's building his new life in America around. It's an instinct, almost as if they've known each other before.

"I know it is. I mean when I was learning English it was difficult for me as well." he says in what he hopes sounds like some comforting words.

"No, you don't know!" Nikolai says, finally looking at him. The anger is ever present in his eyes but it is mixed with an equal doze of desperation. "You don't fucking get it, Alin!"

"Why not? It's not like English is my mother tongue?" he asks, puzzled.

"But it is not the same! At least you have the same fucking alphabet and a ton of similar words and shit…" at this point Nikolai spats back "You have any idea what it's like to have to learn a whole other fucking alphabet? That has nothing to do with yours?"

Alin keeps quiet, allowing the other to vent. He is surprised with himself – he isn't known to be a great listener, nor a good friend, especially having in mind he doesn't even have any friends apart from the other.

Truth to be told, the Romanian doesn't think he's good at anything at all.

When he is finally done rambling, Alin steps in a little closer, putting his hand on the other's shoulder. To his surprise Nikolai doesn't fight him off this time. He makes sure to bookmark this moment in his mental library and come to look at it like a rare and expensive book later.

"This isn't about how different our languages are, is it?" he asks, knowing that this entire fight has nothing to do with Nikolai's proficiency in English. Or the lack of thereof.

"You just…you don't understand, Alin. You might be Eastern European like me but…you have a family, you have wealth."

"I don't have any wealth. My parents do." Alin shots back, surprised by the other's sudden urge to express emotions but still welcoming it.

"Well, yeah but you'll never know what it's like to live like me, making stupid fucking choices because you can't afford to sit there and do nothing because you have no one to really on. And no one to teach the damn fucking English."

Alin stiffens at this and he wants to insult right back but to Nikolai's surprise and his own he remains silent.

" _Съжалявам_ _."_ the Bulgarian mumbles after a few tense minutes of awkward silence which seem to stretch forever. And he still doesn't look at him. Alin isn't a psychologist, far from it, but even he can tell, the other's got issues. Then again, who is he to speak?

"Just, fuck, man you'd better stay away from me."

With that he gets up and starts to walk away. Alin gets up as well and walks up to him, tugging at his worn out gray t-shirt.

"Hey, I'm not staying away." he says and cringes at how cheesy this must sound.

"Why not?" Nikolai asks, pupils dilating in surprise and contrasting against the clear green of his irises.

"Because I barely know you but I already see you as my only friend in like….well, fucking ever. And you're the only one who doesn't find me weird and-"

"Oh, believe me I do find you weird." Nikolai interjects, some of the usual tease having returned to his voice, "But I just don't mind it."

"Yeah, well you're the only one like that. And I know you're all about the angsty anti-hero trope but…why don't you at least try to let me help you?"

"I don't fucking need your sympathy, kid!"

"No, but you do need my help in English." Alin points out with a forced cocky grin which manages to dissolve the last remains of the tense atmosphere.

Nikolai sighs but he can't hide the small smile which tugs the corners of his lips.

"I doubt I would ever be able to speak this fucking language." he grumbles.

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself I've heard some parrots even learn it."

This earns him a very poignant glare and a light smack on the shoulder but he notices the Bulgarian is already smiling.

"Tomorrow after classes you're mine." Alin says and maybe he understands the double meaning of the words but he still wants to see the other redden in the face.

"Looking forward to it." Nikolai teases with a smirk and the look behind his eyes, even if it's unintentional, makes the Romanian blush to his nick.

Too bad they'll spend the afternoon studying English instead of doing something that more enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> So this chapter was kind of…meh. I really didn't like how it turned out but what can I say – I did want some drama and I wanted an excuse for Alin to tutor Nikolai.
> 
> Btw I am sorry for the poor portrayal of teachers up until now. There will be some amazing ones in the next chapters. As a whole I have very deep respect for the teacher's profession and have even contemplated it as a career choice.
> 
> Translations: "Съжалявам." = I'm sorry  
> "Да, добре, разбрах те." = Yes, okay, I understood. 
> 
> Anyway, please share your thoughts with me. Your feedback is really what keeps me writing and is really motivational!


	4. Alin the Senpai

 

_**Alin the Senpai** _

 

The next day Nikolai doesn't show for any of the classes and Alin makes a mental note to give him hell for it later as he's already starting to feel a little responsible for his education. Still, at the very least the Bulgarian has the decency to write him on Facebook that he'll come for lunch and then they can head over to his place.

Alin sighs – that at least. This brings him to his current situation where he's leisurely chatting with Feliciano while having lunch. The Italian is kind enough to offer to wait with him…that or he needs some excuse to order a second serving of pasta.

(Alin has some serious doubts that the Vargas brothers are the reason why the school offered pasta for lunch in the first place.)

"Did I tell you Ludwig won second place in the math tournament?" Feliciano exclaims with a dreamy expressing painted over his tan face and he chuckles to himself – the Italian couldn't be any more transparent when it came to his feelings about their classmate.

"No, you didn't," he responds with a sly smile, enjoying the other's sunny demeanor.

"Oh, I didn't?" the brunette nearly cries out from his seat, as if forgetting to give praise about something the German has done is a crime by itself, "He is so good at math! I swear Ludwig is a genius and-and"

The short teen rambles and on and Alin can't even make out some words because the other talks so fast and his slight accent peaks from the edges of most words. Still, he basks in the admiration he has for Ludwig. Feliciano's brown eyes are filled with nothing short of awe and love and it's so obvious he has a crush on the German, it makes him smile.

Then however the familiar bitterness washes over him and he frowns. He has to wonder – will anyone ever love him in such a way? He bites his lip, at the moment he can't even picture anyone liking him, let alone loving.

Before long he speaks up, trying to run away from his own thoughts.

"So, when do you plan on telling Ludwig you like him?"

"I always tell him I like him!" the Italian beams at him, his face the epitome of innocence and oblivion.

"No, not like him as a friend, I'm sure you tell him that a thousand times a day"

"More than that actually, he sometimes even gets annoyed" Feliciano remarks with a grin.

"No, I mean, when will you tell him you have a crush on him?" the Romanian challenges, feeling a little sheepish that he has to spell it out like that.

"Oh!" the Italian goes red in the face and looks away, "Uh…I don't like him like that" he mumbles, turning his gaze to his expensive sneakers.

"Sure, you just talk non-stop about him and look at him the way characters in movies do!" a third voice comes in and Alin looks up to meet Antonio's mischievous olive green eyes.

"I didn't see you there" he mumbles as the Spaniard drops his backpack, full of his football gear on the table, and takes a sit next to them.

"I get it we're sharing about our love lives?" Antonio asks, raising an eyebrow as he shoots them a devious smirk, "Ah, as if teens can talk about anything else!"

"Uh, no, I was just telling him about Ludwig and-" Feliciano stammers, his cheeks still a deep shade of red.

" _Si, si_ , of course you were!" the more muscular teen nudges him in the ribs and chuckles.

"Dude, the whole damn school knows that you and Ludwig have the hots for each other!" he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, overdramatically. Something in his behavior reminds the Romanian of the Spanish dramas he'd watch with his mum when he was younger.

"I'm new in town and I already know." Alin says conspiringly and Antonio shoots him a look of appreciation for siding with him on that.

Feliciano's blush deepens and he averts his gaze,

"Just like the whole school knows about you and my sister but you won't make it official?"

"Hey, it's not my fault she wants to keep it a secret!" he chimes in, "Trust me I would love to make out with her on every occasion but for whatever reason she wants to keep it secret!"

"Well, maybe that way it's more exciting" Alin chimes in, words slipping by his lips before his brain has managed to think them through.

"Aaall right then!" Antonio shoots him an interested look, "Does our mysterious new classmate have a secret boyfriend of their own?" he demands with a curious look behind his vivid eyes.

"Of course not!" the Romanian defends himself, crossing his hands over his chest, "I wish!"

"Well, maybe you aren't searching hard enough!" Antonio points out, like the master of everything love-related he is, "You know the good ones won't just fall onto your lap!"

"Alin's not searching because he only has eyes for Nikolai!" Feliciano chirps, faking innocence as Alin sends him a death glare. He's starting to think that maybe the Italian isn't as childlike as he pretends to be.

"Well, you certainly have a taste for danger." the Spaniard muses, face lost in thought.

For a second Alin thinks he might say something very profound or intelligent but then Antonio grins, "I bet he's into all the kinky stuff!"

"Oh, that's just gross!" the Romanian cries out but his classmate doesn't seem bothered at all.

He tries very hard not to imagine Nikolai and all the kinky things that flood his mind.

"You know like…spanking, choking and everything BDSM" he continues to explain, voice serious as if he's talking about the most important thing in the world.

Alin can feel his cheeks warm up, he's never been with anyone, hasn't even kissed a guy or a girl for that matter so all of this talk makes him feel like a child.

"I bet Arthur is into that kind of stuff as well" Antonio adds as he keeps talking about his classmates' sex life as if it's the weather. Apparently there is no word for shame in Spanish.

"Well you'll have to ask Alfred about that" another voice comes in and Lovina makes her way to take the last free seat at the table.

"What no hello?" the Spaniard complains with puppy eyes but she just shoots him a glare, "No loving kiss?"

"In your dreams' the girl shoots back, rolling her eyes.

"In my dreams we do a lot more than just kissing," Antonio mumbles which earns him a smack over his shoulder.

"By the way, do you think there's really something between Alfred and Arthur?" Alin takes the opportunity to investigate, even though he feels a little guilty for gossiping like this.

"Duh!" Antonio remarks, as if that's the most obvious thing in the world, "They're totally having sex in the lockers but since Arthur's a huge…how do I say it-" the brunette pauses, searching for a proper word.

"Asshole" Lovina finishes for him, never one run away from being blunt.

"Thank you, _mi amor_ , but I was looking for more meek word, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that." She threatens, casting him another pissed off look.

Although Alin finds the girl a little threatening and somewhat demanding, he still can't ignore the small smile playing over her plump lips as she looks at Antonio when she thinks no one is around.

"Well, yeah, Arthur's an asshole and he doesn't want to make it official, no matter how much Alfred begs him to."

"Alfred's really nice" Feliciano muses as Lovina scoops up a big portion of his pasta and he sends her the closest thing to a glare his personality allows while she just sticks her tongue out to him.

"No one's really nice.' The girl says, voice a little harsh.

Alin shoots her a studying look, she is one of a kind for sure and he has to wonder if he'd be able to be friends with her. Then again the brunette casts him a mean look, mouthing a "What the fuck are you looking at?" and he changes his mind.

"Alin, do you want to hear another public secret?" Antonio asks with a conspiring expression as he scoots closer to him. Lovina only rolls her eyes at the idiotic behaviour of her secret boyfriend but that doesn't seem to lessen his enthusiasm.

Before even hearing his answer, the Spaniard proclaims, "Francis has the hots for Arthur!"

"Uh, doesn't he have the hots for everyone?" the Romanian asks, raising an eyebrow as his classmates let out a collective laugh.

"Well, _si, mi amigo_ , but I bet he really wants to get the Brit to bed. They're all tangled in some sort of creepy live triangle and-"

 _"_ _And you are all tangled in some disgusting gossip."_

A familiar voices comes in, words drenched in strong Eastern European accent. Alin knows who said voice belongs to right away, even before he shoots up a glance only to meet Nikolai's cold green eyes and a small frown painted over his pale face.

"Hello to you too." He greets, feeling a little awkward that the other has caught him gossiping.

Feliciano digs into his plate and he looks almost afraid of the Bulgarian. Antonio offers his trademark _"Hola!"_ but Alin doesn't miss the apparent switch in his behaviour. And Lovina? She just sends him a not so polite stare before muttering something in Italian under her breath that doesn't sound nice at all.

"Are you done acting like a bunch of twelve year old girls in recess?" Nikolai asks, a smirk playing over his lips.

Alin only rolls his eyes, why does he feel such a strong urge to be an asshole? Whatever, sad backstory he has, it's a little unnecessary and it sometimes makes him sometimes question their friendship.

Then again he simply can't stay away from the strange Bulgarian since he is after all the most interesting person he'd met so far. Not getting to know him seems like nothing short of a missed opportunity.

"Of course if you're not done, maybe you should talk about the sex life of the teachers as well, once you're done gossiping about other students…"

"Enough of you being a smartass or I'll change my mind on tutoring you." Alin shots back, giving him a dirty look.

The other frowns for a portion of a second but then his lips roll into a perfect smirk as he mutters, "Touché."

Alin gets his backpack, bids goodbye to his classmates under their bemused looks and they leave. He doesn't miss the glares everyone sends in the direction of Nikolai who pretends not to see them for the most part but then flips off a few people, namely Arthur.

It makes the Romanian wonder – could he get into trouble just from hanging out with him?

 

xxx

 

Alin makes sure they're home alone. His mother is at work and his little sister has ballet that day so it's all good, not that he's planning on having sex with the other or anything of that nature.

Then again, he realizes he's not as opposed to the idea as he probably should be.

As they walk into the elevator Nikolai looks like a kid in a candy shop, staring at the expensive mirror and the overall luxury of the apartment complex he lives in.

Alin smirks, for whatever reason he wants to impress the Bulgarian, even if his living situation is not in any way his merit. He should be grateful for all of this to his grandfather, he was the one after all to make them come here so that they could have a fresh start.

They walk in silence up to his door and Alin absentmindedly thinks how good the other looks good in his jeans. His eyes linger on his ass and he wonders how will the other look in his underwear? But that concept is a big no, so he forces it out of his head.

Even if the other was gay or bi which he doubts, Alin thinks there's no chance in hell he'd ever be attracted to someone like him.

"Home sweet home." he declares with a grin as they enter the apartment and Nikolai kneels so that he can take off his snickers which are pretty much falling apart.

"How on Earth can you afford this place?" Nikolai asks, as blunt as ever. He walks down the hall, staring at the expensive paintings.

"My grandpa owns a well-known winery back in Romania." the shorter teen explains, shrugging it off, "And besides, my mum has a nice job here so she pays for a lot of the bills as well."

"This is so beautiful," Nikolai remarks out of the blue, staring at one of the pictures, almost as if he is hypnotized.

"You like it?" Alin asks, raising a brown eyebrow as he walks up to his classmate, standing a little too close to him perhaps.

"Why would you be surprised?" the Bulgarian grumbles, still keeping his eyes on the painting.

It really is a beautiful painting. A simple rural house and the endless meadows surrounding it, nothing like the overly fancy post-modern paintings that get all the fame these days. But the colours blend well and for whatever reason in reminds Nikolai of Bulgaria, almost a little too much.

The familiar feeling of nostalgia almost overwhelms the Bulgarian but before it does, he's torn away from his thoughts by his classmate's voice.

"Well, no offense, but you don't exactly strike me as the guy who'd be interested in art." Alin says and he can sense the other doesn't like the answer but brushes it off regardless.

It's almost as if Nikolai has already accepted the kind of place society has given him in the world and doesn't intend on fighting to change it.

"You'd be surprised." he replies in the end, taking one final appreciating look of the picture.

"I really like realistic paintings. I hate the abstract, life's too damn interesting too waste any time creating no-sense art that stands for nothing." The Bulgarian muses, voice thick and sultry and making the Romanian think of things he probably shouldn't.

Alin stares at him, taken aback by the information the other has shared. He lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

"Did I say something funny?"

"No, it's just that…you seem like an interesting guy" the Romanian admits, caught in a rare moment of honesty. He might later regret being so blunt with the other but in the end of the day he's never been so interested in anyone.

Nikolai stares away, unable to receive a compliment. Alin makes a mental note that the other looks downright adorable when he does it. Adorable seems like a strange word to describe a tall and muscular criminal with possible connections to the fucking Russian mafia but it's true.

"You sound so gay sometimes." Nikolai mumbles in the end, shaking his head.

Alin stares at him, squinting his eyes.

"Is there anything wrong with being gay?" he demands, voice a little harsher perhaps then intended.

The green-eyed teen keeps silent for what seems like forever in the small, well lit hall of his apartment.

"I…I don't know." he says in the end, voice shaking a little.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Alin pushes, wanting the other to reassure him he's not homophobic at least.

He already knows he probably doesn't stand a chance with Nikolai. The guy looks straight as hell but at very least, he doesn't want to be friends with a person who hates him for who he is.

"Just forget what I said." Nikolai waves off in the end, offering him a small smile.

Alin sighs, that gives him somewhat of an answer but he doesn't want a fight and so he tries to shrug it off and plasters on a fake smile because that's what he does best. They quietly enter his room as he searches for a way to dispel the awkwardness between them.

"Make yourself comfortable," he says as he points in the direction of his firniture, trying to inject some cheerfulness into his voice and full himself it was there in the first place.

His wallpapers are a nice blend of white, gray and burgundy with some complex geometric pattern to them while the drapes are a deep wine colour, falling almost the ground. The rest of his furniture is nice, not overly expensive but still in good taste. He's proud the entire apartment is his and his mum's idea, with little suggestions made by his seven-year-old sister.

Nikolai stares at the room, turning to face him with an unreadable expression.

"Uh, your room's certainly not the typical teenage guy choice." He points out with a grin.

"I'm not much of a typical teenage guy." Alin admits, thought that much seems obvious. Still he relishes in the feeling of freedom the other has to offer, the way he doesn't judge him about his peculiar taste.

(It almost makes him forget the possibility that Nikolai might be homophobic).

American society is like walking in egg shells, everyone is offended by everything. But the Bulgarian… he's different, he's nothing like anyone he's ever met, like a breath of fresh air, a bright spot in the mash of grey that the world has become.

Ivanov starts looking through his stuff, stopping at his rich collection of books, as he gently runs his fingers over them, almost as if he's afraid he'd somehow tarnish them. Most of his Romanian books are back at his home and so the ones on the raft are mostly in English.

"You a bookwarm?" the taller teen asks, cocking an eyebrow.

The sunrays, streaming from his window hit his eyes, bringing in the turquoise in them nicely. The small turquoise flecks contrast sharply against the forest green and Alin needs to take a deep breath, pushing some thoughts in the back of his mind but still knowing he'd have to deal with them later.

To say the other is beautiful seems like an understatement.

"Uh, Earth to Alin! Are you there?" Nikolai waves a hand before his face, effectively bringing him out of his trans-like state.

"Sorry, I got distracted." He murmurs, offering him a bright smile.

"I could see that."

"Is being a bookworm a bad thing?" Alin challenges, taking a step closer to him until they're only a few inches apart.

 _"_ _Не._ _"_ The Bulgarian replies curtly, his voice firm, "Just the opposite."

He turns around, facing the bookshelf once again as he goes through the titles of the books, "I've always loved reading."

"You don't look like the kind of guy who does." Alin blurts out, words slipping from his mouth before his brain can fully think them through.

Nikolai shoots him a glare, "You believe too much in those American clichés." he begins, "You know the ones about nerds and jocks and delinquents."

The Romanian stares at him, unable to think of a reply on spot. What should he say – should he apologize?

"Life's more complicated than that, you know." The green-eyed boy muses as he picks up _"Les Miserables"_ , the book's translated in English.

"Always wanted to read it but unfortunately they don't have it in Bulgarian here." He frowns, opening the novel and flickering through the pages, "Not to mention I don't know English well enough to be able to read through it."

Alin can feel his heart race as he watches the Bulgarian. A small smile creeps up his lips, the other looks like a kid on the Eve of Christmas. He has yet to fully comprehend his complex personality and he briefly wonders if that is even possible.

While Feliciano is simple – bubbly and cheerful, Nikolai seems like a well-made maize. His personality is like a blend of qualities which normally never go well together and yet the Bulgarian makes them blend perfectly, like the colours of a pretty painting.

"You know what?" he says as an idea flashes through his mind.

"What?"

"Once I finish tutoring you in English you can take the book and read it." He promises, voice sincere.

Nikolai's expressive green eyes widen, pupils standing sharply against his light irises, "Really?" he asks in an almost childish manner. And then he claims Alin is immature!

The Romanian nods, "Promise. That way I know you're going to put effort into learning English since I can clearly see you don't care about your school performance."

"Thank you, Alin." The taller teen responds and he can read the gratitude in his face which makes something in his chest flutter.

"Okay, then let's get to work!" the Romanian urges to which his classmates responds with a sigh of disappointment.

He points him in the direction of all the great books he's eager to read and that seems to be convincing enough.

They plop onto his big comfortable bed, maybe a little too close to one another for classmates. Alin takes out an old English textbook of his sister, opting to go for the basics.

When Nikolai leans in, he inhales in his smell, one of cigarettes without filter and some almost washed out alcohol. Surprisingly enough, he doesn't mind the mix, he finds foreign and intoxicating and he's left wanting more.

Their fingers brush and Alin his brain tells him that's entirely coincidental while his heart tries to argue otherwise, even if it knows it is.

 _"_ _This is going to take some time."_ He muses and he's not entirely certain if he's referring to the tutoring or something else between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of Alin beginning to tutor Niko? Wouldn't he be a great teacher xD?  
> Next chapter a lot will happen and let us learn more about Nikolai's world as well as the pace picking up! I hope you're excited ^^
> 
> If you enjoy the story, please review, any feedback serves as great motivation ^^


	5. Two Shots of Vodka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, hope you enjoy!

 

**_Two Shots of Vodka_ **

 

Alin and Nikolai quickly fall into the familiar rhythm of going to school and then heading to the Romanian's house for some much needed tutoring.

The process of learning a language is slow but Alin is pleased to find his classmate is a fast learner: he's already improving his grammar and his vocabulary has broadened. The pronounced Eastern European accent still remains an issue but in the end of the day he decides it's just a part of his charm.

The shorter teen has started falling in love with said accent, much like everything else about the other.

Still, there are so many question marks around the Bulgarian and he can't quite say he knows the boy next to him. Nikolai doesn't know everything about him either and there are things which Alin wishes he never will.

Aside from the fact that the Bulgarian has an incredibly high alcohol tolerance, that he's on the aggressive side, he loves reading and maybe a few other technicalities Alin knows next to nothing and it's starting to bother him.

As much as he loves mysterious, the time when he has to unravel them always comes. He intends on starting today, with something small at first before working his way up to filling the bigger blanks.

"So, when are you going to tell me what you do for work?" he asks, curiosity getting the better of him when Nikolai has yet another conversation with the mysterious Ivan over the phone, in a mix of Bulgarian and Russian.

The Romanian is still left in the woods about whatever shady business the other's in. Radko hasn't made many appearances in school, not to mention he seems to avoid everyone and Ivanov is no exception.

He has yet to meet the infamous Braginski though in all honesty – he is no hurry.

The Bulgarian meets his eyes, taking a minute or so to study them. Alin has to look away as he all but squirms under the intense green gaze of the other.

"Well, I could bring you to see what I do, though I don't think you're going to enjoy it." He says slowly, dragging out the words after what feels like eternity.

Alin raises an eyebrow, shooting a smug look at the other, "Try me."

Nikolai lets out a hearty laugh, apparently finding his slight teasing amusing.

"Kid, you have no idea what you're asking for." He replies, mischievous green eyes filled with mirth.

"Oh, so you're that bad?" Alin retorts with a smirk.

"Oh, I'm the worst!" the Bulgarian exclaims theatrically, throwing his hand in the air and causing his friend to chuckle.

The Bulgarian on top of everything else seems artistic too. It's a strange peculiarity, one that stands slightly at odds with his persona. Alin bites his bottom, lip he has to wonder how many other things he doesn't know about him.

They keep silent for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet moments when it's just the two of them and the world outside seems to come to a stop.

Alin muses over how much he's come to love the other's smile, finding it even more enchanting than his usual attitude which consists of smirks and smartass comebacks.

But then Nikolai frowns again as if he remembers, the world outside continues to exist, and just because he's found Alin it doesn't mean all the madness in his own life is forgotten.

Not to mention, the other knows nothing of said madness.

"I can bring you to see where I work." He mumbles more to himself than anything but it still causes the Romanian to beam in return, "Tonight's gonna be a busy night so we'll need some more hands."

"So you're going to make me work?" Alin offers him a childish pout, making him to chuckle.

"Uh, hello, you're the one who gives me three pages of homework!" the Bulgarian protests, glaring at his notes while his friend starts laughing at his messy handwriting.

"Over the damn Present Perfect Tense none less!" he whines, glaring at the evilness that is the tenses of the English language.

"It's all for your own good." Alin assures him, faking innocence while the other just smirks at him.

"Just wait and see till I decide to teach you Bulgarian!" he threatens.

"I would love it if you teach me something new." the shorter teen blurts out, immediately regretting his words.

Nikolai sends him a slightly weirded-out look but says nothing.

"I don't think you'd be all that good at volleyball. Or tennis. Or uh, kicking ass."

Alin makes a mental note to bookmark those activities under the _"Nikolai likes this"_ list which he keeps at the back of his mind.

"You've just never seen me in action." he teases, hoping he doesn't blurt out anything weird while the other gets his things and prepares to leave for home.

The last thing he wants in the world is to push the other away, especially having in mind he's not only his crush but his only friend.

"I'll text you where we'll meet so I can take you to see my job." Nikolai promises, waving him goodbye before dashing to the stairs because the elevator is apparently too mainstream for him.

 

**xxx**

 

Alin waits eagerly for his friend, glancing at his watch a few times to note the other is, as always, late. He's wearing a simple black T-shirt and some worn out jeans as his classmate has warned him not to wear his usual eccentric clothes.

He bites his lower lip nervously and fidgets with his hand, having already given up to hide his anxiety.

He's equal parts terrified and excited about the night. On the one hand he's finally getting to see a small glimpse of Nikolai's world but on the other….what if he doesn't belong to said world?

His own insecurity rears its ugly head and it makes him feel light headed with worry. What if he embarrasses himself? His brain tells him he always does. Somehow he always ends up disappointing people, falling short to their expectations and being labeled as nothing but a freak.

What if the Bulgarian is no exception to the rule?

Speak of the devil, Nikolai finally appears, trademark smirk playing over his face as a cigarette dangles from his lips. Alin frowns – he's not much of a fan of his smoking but changing him seems like mission impossible, not that he's one to give up of course.

The Bulgarian's cheerful, careless mood is in direct contrast to his own anxiety but it still has somewhat of a calming effect on his nerves.

"Glad you're not wearing any of that Goth stuff." The taller teen points out as he checks him out, green eyes wondering over his body for perhaps a second too long.

"You're just jealous of my great sense of clothing." Alin teases with a childish wink while his classmate merely rolls his eyes but still offers him a lighthearted grin.

They start walking in the direction of his mysterious work place. The Romanian's mind has already come up with some ideas since not all that many places in the world start the working shift at around seven in the evening.

None of those ideas are nice though.

After what feels like forever for him they approach some sort of a bar and Alin has a bad feeling that this might be the place in question. Nikolai only nods when he asks him but he can the other is frowning as well.

The shorter ten slowly turns to face the building - it looks decrepit, some of the exterior is falling apart and he can't imagine the interior looks much better.

Still, there are various neon flashing signs, graffiti and many things written in Cyrillic which he can't understand because the other still hasn't gone through with the threat of teaching him Bulgarian.

Suddenly Nikolai grabs his hand, effectively making him spin around and face him. The unexpected contact makes a wave of heat spread through his chest, thick blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Uh, Nikolai? What are you-?" he asks sheepishly, while the other is holding his wrist in an almost protective manner, eyes firmly set on the decrepit looking bar.

If the Romanian listens intently, he can almost hear the music coming out of the building and some vague shouts in languages he doesn't comprehend.

"Listen, Alin" he begins, voice uncharacteristically serious, "This is not much of a nice place, certainly not something you're used to-"

"I can already tell that." He cuts in, feeling a little annoyed that the other seems to be babysitting him.

For a second there he expected something else, something much more intimate coming from the other's mouth…Then again it's his own fault he always expects the good when he should already be used to the bad.

"I only brought you here because you wouldn't stop bugging me about it and because you should have some idea about who I really am." Nikolai declares and Alin can't help but let out a small chuckle – the other is surely being over-dramatic.

What could possibly go wrong by going to the bar? Sure it looks like something straight out of a criminal investigation but it can't be that bad, right?

"The people coming here aren't going to be too nice, especially since you are…" Nikolai begins but never finishes, words hanging awkwardly in the air and then falling flat between their feet.

"Gay?" Alin challenges, voice remaining steady.

He's come to accept his sexuality a long time ago, even if others have not.

His family was supportive while most of his other acquaintances were cold. Still, he knew his Romania was a much better place for the gay community than the majority of Eastern Europe. Getting to know himself was a long process, but he is no longer ashamed of who he is.

Ivanov stares as him incredulous, surprised with his bluntness before he offers a curt nod.

"Look, uh most people coming here are immigrants. Russians, Ukrainians, Belarusians, Bulgarians, Serbians…you get the gist, right?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow, "They come here cause they miss home and because the locals aren't welcoming to us. At all."

The Romanian nods, he can understand well enough where the other is going.

"And uh…well things can get rough. Most of these people aren't exactly…polite."

"In other words I should be careful and keep my mouth shut." Alin declares, frowning a little at the prospect to act like someone who he's not.

"You can always go home if you want!" the Bulgarian assures, raising a pale hand to stress his point, "Maybe I should have never offered you to come! It's just that you wanted to know what I do so bad that I…"

"Relax I'm not a baby." He tries reassuring him, feeling a little brave and touching his hand, as if to help him to stop panicking.

"You act like one," the taller teen remarks but still offers him a minuscule smile, as he tries to regain his usual composure, "Just…please be careful. I want you to be safe."

Alin is at loss of words at the statement and a feeling a wave of warmth washes over him, making the sides of his face heat up. No matter what happens, he feels ecstatic that the stoic Bulgarian has admitted something like this.

It's the first time he's seen him say something openly nice and the fact that it's directed to him makes him swoon a little. He tries to push those thoughts away, feeling like a twelve-year-old girl from a badly written Fanfic but still, he can't keep himself from internally squealing in joy.

"Oooh, so little Nikolai cares about me?" he teases, winking at the other.

"Shut up!" the Bulgarian grumbles, going straight back to the usual role of an asshole as they head for the bar.

At the entrance the sight of none other than Radko greets them. The boy has his perpetual frown on and a murderous glare painted in his one remaining brown eye.

"The hell is wrong with you?!" The Serbian demands, not bothering to greet them because apparently being nice isn't something he does, "Why the fuck did you bring the damn freak?!"

Alin can feel the Serbian's disgusted glare over him but he shrugs off the insult, he's been called worse by better people. Nikolai, on the other hand glares daggers at the other.

"He wanted to come." He explains, voice low, "Plus, since Braginski's out of town and that new girl Irina quit, we're short on hands."

The brunette keeps quiet for a second or so, his one remaining eye firmly set on Alin as he shoots him another poignant glare before sighing melodramatically.

"And you think this spoiled brat can handle this place?" he spits out.

" _Да_ , for one night."

"Whatever, if he gets killed, you'll be the one talking to the damn cops." The Serb says in the end and now his voice is more on the indifferent side.

"You want help tonight?" Nikolai asks and the Romanian is surprised to find a sliver of caring behind his words. It's strange since Radko clearly doesn't care about him.

"Fuck off." The scarred teenager grumbles, pushing him away, "My fucking face should be enough to keep any trouble away."

The Bulgarian nods and they enter the bar, leaving Radko to keep watch at the door.

"So, uh you a bodyguard?" Alin asks sheepishly, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

" _Да и…не._ " The green-eyed boy muses as he takes in the mess that the place is left in as per usual, "I'm a bodyguard, bartender, accountant and…some other shit."

The shorter teen has a strong urge to ask about that "other shit" but remains silent since he knows it's useless to question his classmate. Nikolai is one of the most secretive people he knows and he feels grateful for coming to the bar in the first place.

A small, harsh voice at the back in his head reminds him he should be grateful for this in the first place. Spending the night with a friend feels like a gift and who is he waste it?

Alin shakes his head, trying to silence the small voice that constantly questions anything good that happens to him, as if he doesn't deserve it.

Instead of asking anything more questions, he takes in the environment, brown eyes falling over each object and trying to make some observations on his own. The interior isn't much better than the exterior but at the very least it doesn't seem to be falling apart.

It looks like a cheap bar located somewhere in Russia and for a second he feels as though he's no longer on American soil but then again he understands that is probably the point.

The whole place is bathed in dim lightning, mixed with a heavy curtain of smoke. It reeks of a alcohol, combined with no filter cigarettes and something else, maybe weed.

It looks like the kind of place people come to forget about their problems by creating more.

The tables and chairs are cheap and some are broken, the bar itself is a mess with shattered pieces of glass glistening in the dim light. Then there is what looks like a do-it-yourself stage for pole dancing. Alin blushes at the very sight of it, his imagination flooded with obscene images.

As if to bring everything together, on the walls there are pictures of various Eastern European celebrities, tennis players, footballers and some singers. Then there are the Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Bulgarian and Serbian flags, a little washed out but still contrasting sharply against the overall atmosphere.

Alin bites his bottom lip, he feels as though he's the most out of place thing in the entire bar.

"Something wrong?" Nikolai asks, breaking him away from his thoughts.

"Nah, everything's fine." The Romanian assures, faking a smile when a wave of nervousness washes over him.

Still, he wants to know what the other's doing, a strange feeling of worry over of the Bulgarian having taken over his mind. Whatever this place is, he feels like there's something more to it, something that's outside the law.

Nikolai might be hot headed and crass, swearing, drinking and smoking every spare minute but he doesn't want him to sink into a life of crime. Maybe it's selfish, maybe that's only because he is the last thing keeping him drowning but it's a fact.

"Are you the new waitress?" comes a sweet voice, heavily drenched in Slavic accent.

Alin spins around and is greeted by the sight of a short blonde girl who is very well endowed. She isn't pretty per se, but her big breasts and the skimpy clothing are bound to attract lots of attention.

" _Не_ , he's a friend" Ivanov chimes in, explaining away the misunderstanding helpfully.

Still, Alin frowns after he's been mistaken for a girl, not that it hasn't happened before. He doesn't have an issue with it but he worries the other might. It's strange how much he's come to rely on the other's opinion of his in such a short time.

"Katya, this is Alin," he adds and they shake hands although the waitress seems to have a little trouble balancing the tray with one hand before Nikolai steps in and helps her out.

"Nice to meet you!" she exclaims, offering him trained nod, "I really wish Nikolai had more friends."

Alin notices how sadness flash through her pale, almost colourless blue eyes for a second or so, only to be replaced with an empty smile.

Her words sound an awful lot as if what she's saying is that she herself needs more friends but is too afraid to even wish for some. It's a feeling Alin knows too well.

Before he can say anything to the girl, Katya hurries away as clients start coming in, making sure their orders are taken on time and the counter is cleaned.

He muses over how everything surrounding the Bulgarian continues to get weirder and he has the strange urge to save the other from the entire mess, whatever it really is.

"She's Ivan's older sister." Nikolai explains to him, slightly leaning in so he can whisper in his ear over the loud music while Alin revels at their proximity, "And she's our waitress on most nights."

"Does she do… anything else?" Alin challenges, glancing in the direction of the pole. He's surprised by his own bluntness but maybe that's just the effect the Bulgarian has on him.

The green-eyed teen understands what he's referring to and purses his lips,

"Nothing that I approve of." he admits and for a second or so looks as if he wants to add something but then walks away in the direction of the bar.

 

**xxx**

 

The night is hectic.

People of various ages rush into the bar, the only thing they have in common is that they are all from Eastern Europe.

Fights break out all the time and Alin is starting to feel a little light-headed because of all the smoke and the stench of alcohol.

Nikolai is standing behind the counter, playing bartender like a professional. He speaks mostly in Bulgarian, switching a few times to fluent Russian with ease.

Alin frowns when he sees the way most girls look at him, how they giggle at his jokes behind their boyfriends' backs. He hates the way they give him small winks and playful smiles which he returns with a devious smirk.

It makes his blood boil.

"Are you okay?" he hears the soft voice from earlier, turning around only to be greeted by two washed out blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine" he assures, offering Katya a fake smile from his own arsenal.

The girl maneuvers for them to sit down on the tall stalls by the bar as no one is placing an order at the moment.

"So you and Nikolai are classmates?" she asks and to his surprise he finds genuine interest behind the inquisitive orbs of blue. There's something strangely motherly about it which seems out of place given her age.

"Yes, I'm helping him learn English." he responds with a small smile, an honest one this time.

The Ukrainian's eyes widen in surprise at his words, "Really?" she asks sheepishly and she suddenly looks so much younger, like a little girl, lost in the vast American land of dreams and disappointment.

"That is amazing! It's very nice of you to do it for free."

He only nods at her words, unsure how to reply.

He can see how much money is a concern, not only to Nikolai but to her as well. His eyes trace her skimpy attire, it looks old and dated and he has to wonder if it's even comfortable to wear.

"I've always wished I could speak English properly." the blonde muses, words hanging in the air awkwardly as she stares at nothing in particular, a dreamy expression painted over her pale face.

Suddenly Alin feels sorry for her, he can see she doesn't want this, that it was never her childhood dream to work as a waitress, a striper, and in the worst case scenario, possibly more for her seemingly terrifying brother.

"I know I speak very bad, I am sorry." Katya apologizes, turning to him and he can read the desperation put behind the words.

"Don-Don't worry," he tries to assure her, a sudden urge to comfort this stranger solely because she seems to care about the Bulgarian, "English is tricky, especially if you don't have awesome teachers like Niko does." He offers her a small, playful smile and some of the heavy atmosphere surrounding them dissipates.

"Niko? You call him Niko?" the waitress chuckles at the nickname, "That is so sweet."

Alin genuine hopes the Bulgarian will think the same one day.

She pauses, biting her lip, almost as if she doesn't know what to say next.

"I-I'm very glad he's found a friend," she admits in the end, opting to be blunt, "With us…it's hard, we don't fit in here. Mostly it's just us, we stick as family."

Alin raises an eyebrow, understanding for the first time that Ivan is more than just Nikolai's mysterious criminal boss, he is apparently family.

"What about Niko's parents?" he asks, words slipping from his mouth before he can stop himself.

He's never asked before and the Bulgarian has never spoken about it. He'd assumed and hoped he would someday but as time went on the other remained silent, never giving him even the slightest idea about his living situation.

" _Нйет_ " Katya shakes her head, "None of us do anymore."

Alin's eyes widen in shock and in a manner of seconds he's overwhelmed with sympathy. Then again…he should have known. The signs were now glaringly obvious now that he looked back on them.

Nikolai's poverty, his rags of clothes, shady activities, his overall delinquent behaviour. Alin has to wonder how much of his coldness and anger came from that?

Radko too, he has to what if perhaps the scar that ran down his face had to with the parents' death?

He wants to say something, anything to comfort Katya but words seem to die on his lips. The waitress avoids his gaze, a mix of acceptance and long lived sadness having settled over her features.

Before Alin can say anything a stranger walks up to them.

He's swaying and he's obviously treated himself to more than just one glass of vodka which is a sure sign for trouble.

" _Сука_ _,_ " he turns to Katya, gripping her arm in his big fat palm, "Been ordering for five minutes and you piece of trash don't take my order!"

The man's words are slurred and drenched in heavy Russian accent. He looks like one of those poorly made Hollywood villains, the stereotypical bad guy whom the heroes fight.

Only problems is this is not a movie and the fear Alin feels is real.

" _Извините, извините_ " The Ukrainian begs in a soft voice as the man yanks her closer.

"You should pay for your delay." the drunk slurs, dirty hands quickly finding their way to her face, neck and finally landing over her ample cleavage.

Alin freezes, the entire world seems to be put to a haul for a few painfully long moments. The men doesn't stop, one hand over her breasts, the other headed under her short skirt.

"You should stop this." he finds himself saying, stretching out a hand only for the other to fight it off and nearly knock him off his stool in the process.

"You, short and flat chested girl, stay the fuck away!" the Russian demands and Alin doesn't even have time to be offended.

He feels terrified and helpless while Katya doesn't even scream for help, it almost looks as if she is used to this kind of behaviour.

"Get your hands off her." he hears Nikolai demand from behind the man's back and he can hear the anger sipping through his accented words even before he meets his eyes.

The other has just returned from restocking and he can see fury flashing behind his big green irises.

"Make me!" the drunk challenges and before Alin can comprehend anything they are locked into a fight.

His eyes widen in surprise as he suddenly recalls times long forgotten, times he had wanted to erase from his memory forever. He's frozen in his place, mouth agape as he stares at the two men fighting before him.

"Go call Radko!" Nikolai screams and effectively tears the Romanian away from his thoughts. Another guy, seemingly a friend of the first joins in, slamming his fist into the Bulgarian's jaw.

Alin doesn't need another plea and quickly turns around and jogs towards the exit of the bar. When he's finally outside of the bar he sees Radko, leaning against the way as he leisurely enjoys a smoke.

"N-Nikolai needs your help, a fight broke out!" he exclaims, out of breath.

The Serbian scoffs, uninterested, "Big deal," he mumbles, butting his cigarette against the wall of the bar.

Alin's dark brown eyes widen at his indifference as terror slowly creeps into his chest, "It's two against one!" he screams at the other, "Aren't you going to help him!?"

Radko rolls his eye, "Fuck off you fucking girly ass wimp," he grumbles, pushing Alin away and nearly making him fall on the ground in the process.

Still, they enter the bar once again and once the scene is revealed before them, Nikolai fighting surprisingly well against the two large guys, Radko does seem to quicken his step just a little.

The Romanian backs away, Katya standing closely next to him as she clutches to her tray.

"Took you long enough to come." Nikolai deadpans, sending a murderous glare to the Serbian.

"Hoping you'd be dead already in the meantime." Radko shots back before he slams a chair into one of the guy's head.

Two other join in the fight and Alin can only stare in awe at how well they fight.

It's all swears and punches and crashed bottles of vodka.

In the end Nikolai is victorious while Radko has some difficulty, especially when one of the guys slams an empty tray into him.

Still the fight is over and Alin all but rushes to the Bulgarian, horror replaced with relief to a small degree.

"Are you okay!?" he shouts, suddenly realizing the music is gone as his own voice echoes through the vast bar.

" _Да, успокои се_ ," the Bulgarian responds, taking in a few deep breaths and sitting on the nearby stool with a sigh of relief.

Then the oddest thing happens, a smile plays across his face.

Alin stares at him in disbelief before he all but stomps next to the Bulgarian, hands placed over his hips, "What the fuck are you smiling about?!" he demands, surprising even himself as he swears.

Radko is already telling the others to leave while Katya thanks Nikolai before heading to collect the pieces of broken glasses scattered across the bar.

The Bulgarian rolls his eyes, "I wouldn't have died. Stop being a drama queen."

"Oh, yeah because getting into a fight with some drunk bastard who's swaying a vodka bottle towards your head is totally normal." Alin grumbles under his breath, eyes never leaving Nikolai.

The taller teen opens his mouth to say something but then seems to think against it. Alin takes it as invitation and steps in closer to him.

He wants to hug more than ever, wants to be close to him, make sure he's okay and bury his head into his chest. It takes him aback how quickly they've become close but at this point it's not something he can deny.

"I'm fine, really." Nikolai assures, going as far as gracing him with a small smile which makes the Romanian swoon.

"You'd better be."

The Bulgarian cocks an eyebrow as a devious smirk spreads across his pale face.

"Oh, is little Alin caring now?" He teases, making his voice softer, "Does he care about his Nikolai?"

Alin shots him a death glare but can't stop the feeling of relief washing over him and the tiny nod that he offers his classmate. Not to mention – is he hearing things or did the other just call him _his_?

"Quit acting like a bunch of gay hippies." Radko grumbles from next to them, busy picking up shards of glass and effectively ruining the moment.

If Alin has to be honest, he doesn't like the Serbian. He seems aggressive and hateful and he obviously doesn't care about Nikolai, even if they are supposed to be family.

He notices Radko's holding his left hand to his chest, attentively and his friend seem to have caught up on that as well.

"You okay?" the Bulgarian asks as he takes a step in his direction but Radko only glares at him with his one remaining eye.

"Fuck off." He grumbles under his breath.

Nikolai sends him his own pointed glare before sighing and mumbling something inaudible in his mother tongue.

"Maybe I should look at you both?" Katya asks in a gentle manner, care slipping through her words.

"We're fine." The green-eyed teen assures with a kind smile as they all set to clean the mess.

In thirty minutes the bar looks a little less like it has suffered through a war and they gather to leave. It's already way past midnight and Alin bites his lip, unsure about how he's supposed to head home. He supposes calling a taxi and walking are the only options at this time.

"Don't even think about calling some slimy taxi-driver." Nikolai's voice catches him by surprise and he has the odd feeling that sometimes the Bulgarian can read his mind.

"We'll drop you home." He adds with what looks an awful lot like a flirtatious smirk but Alin refuses to get his hopes up, "Wouldn't want a lady like you to get lost now, would I?"

The Romanian all bit shoves his elbow in the other's ribs, not with his full force of course while Nikolai bursts into laughter. It's a surprisingly warm and clear night, so warm in fact that it almost feels as though it's summer.

For a second or so Alin vaguely wonders about the weather in Romania and Bulgaria and supposes the temperatures have dropped already. He makes a note to search for the weather on the Net or simply ask his grandparents (he mentally chastises himself for not calling them often enough, much like every other immigrant in the world.)

"Hey, Earth to Alin," the Bulgarian calls out, waving a pale hand before his face.

"Sorry, got distracted for a moment here," he replies sheepishly as he turns to view his friend.

"Man, you dream way too much," the teen snorts but his words lack bite and Alin responds with a teasing, "Well, maybe you don't dream enough."

Radko grunts at their childish banter while Katya simply giggles and they head to the car. The Ukrainian sits behind the wheel, while Nikolai and Alin are placed on the backseat, perhaps a little closer than needed.

And when the Bulgarian's slender fingers fall over his thigh unintentionally or not, he simply pretends not to notice as he doesn't want the other to retrieve his hand.

 

**xxx**

 

They travel to his apartment in silence while in his head Alin is feverishly trying to think of a plan to make the Bulgarian stay. He figures that's not all too moralistic but then again what is these days?

When the cheap car comes to an abrupt stop only a block away from his home he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

"Nikolai, aren't you going to walk me home?" he asks, raising a devious eyebrow, as if that is the most natural thing in the world. He just has to play the part right and maybe he'll snatch a few more hours with him.

The Bulgarian gapes at his words while Radko turns from the front sea and glares at him, his look a mix of disbelief and disgust.

"Why the fuck does a seventeen-year-old boy need to be walked home?" The Serb demands harshly.

"Uh, well, you see it is a bad neighbourhood." Alin tries, mentally facepalming at how awful of a liar he is.

"No, it's not." Nikolai points out, as oblivious as ever.

 _"_ _Damn it, Niko, don't you see where I'm going with this!?"_ Alin all but screams in his head but remains silent on the surface as he offers a sheepish smile.

The silence stretches over the car and he's ready to leave alone in defeat before things get even more awkward. Just when his hands is already on the knob of the door, he hears the angelic voice of Katya pulls him out of his misery.

"Well," she begins, and he can see her giving him a small, encouraging smile in the front window, "Maybe Alin is afraid of the dark, aren't you?"

He immediately takes the bait and nods with assertion.

"Yes!" he cries out, possibly rendering Radko deaf who just sends him yet another death glare.

"How come you never told me about this?" Nikolai demands, suspicion peeking through his accented words.

"Uh…well, you see…" Alin struggles with the answer.

"Were you embarrassed?" The Bulgarian wonders while Katya's making some elaborate sings from the driver's seat that he can't quite understand but they seemed to be supposed to help him.

"Yeah…I thought you'd uh… make fun of me?" Alin attempts, some of his previous assertiveness having returned to him.

He even offers a childish pout and the best puppy look he can muster and the Bulgarian just seems to buy it.

"Fine, I'll walk you home." Nikolai says in defeat and Alin all but reels in joy, "Don't wait on me guys, I might walk home." He adds in the direction of Katya who pretends not to hear him (maybe she already suspects of Alin's plan to make him stay for a sleepover).

For a second there the moment is perfect but then -

"I never knew you Romanians were such pussies." Radko's voice ruins everything Alin is _really_ starting to dislike the Serb.

Before he can say anything to his defence Katya punches the grumpy teen who in turn sends her a glare and mutters something under his breath.

"Bye, Alin! Niko take good care of him!" the Ukrainian offers with a warm smile as she waves them good bye.

Alin smiles back at her, he's just met the girl but he's already starting to like her.

He takes a deep breath, he can't believe he's having his first ever sleepover! And with the mysterious Bulgarian he has undoubtedly come to crush over in the last few weeks no less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think of Nikolai's job? What about Katya - isn't she acting like an older sister to them xD?
> 
> What did you make of the dynamics between Nikolai and Alin?
> 
> Next chapter - Sleepover time, I hope you're excited!
> 
> Please review, your feedback always puts a smile on my face and motivates me to write more! ^^


	6. A Little Too Old For Sleepovers

 

_**A Little Too Old for Sleepovers** _

Alin feels almost giddy as they head for the elevator. He has never had a friend for a sleepover, he's never been this close to anyone. And while Felicino and Francis are nice, lively and amusing to spend time around, he feels their bond lacks depth. It's normal, he is new and they have other friends and maybe they're just different from him to begin with.

Nikolai, however, is a whole different story. The Bulgarian has depth and intensity like no one else Alin has met. He's interesting, like an old book, a classic, none of that sappy new age kind of crap you read about in magazines.

"If we're going to do this often, then maybe I should get a toothbrush here," Nikolai points out, voice light and amused and tearing Alin away from his own little introspection.

"Uh-uh," the Romanian mumbles in agreement, not paying attention to their light banter as his eyes land firmly on the other teen as they exit the door.

The familiar warmth pools in his chest and struggles to push away unwanted thoughts. Alin is not only a virgin, he hasn't kissed anyone either and as shameful as it may be in society's eyes he hasn't held hands with anyone apart from his mother and sister.

He can feel his cheeks heat up as his imagination draws pictures, dangerous pictures of Nikolai's lips over his own. Alin has only ever touched himself a handful times, he's not a sexual person or at least he's thought he's not until now. Now everything's different when a certain enigmatic Bulgarian is around.

Still, he doesn't dare think about the other in _that_ way, doesn't let his imagination mentally undress him. (Even if his mind insists on straying in such a direction).

"Are you okay," Nikolai asks suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks and making Alin bump into him.

"Sorry," the Romanian mumbles under his breath, unable to hide his excitement and embarrassment.

"You look a little flushed," the green eyed teen observes and stretches a pale hand, absentmindedly feeling his forehead, "Tch, you don't have a fever."

Alin nods and offers a, 'That's very considerate to say, Dr. Ivanov."

Nikolai laughs at his words and suddenly the hallway to his apartment seems too small and is filled with nothing but the other's melodious laughter. Alin thinks how he wants to record it and play it on repeat but then muses how the other would kill him for it.

They enter his apartment and Nikolai leisurely kicks off his sneakers, as if he doesn't have a care in the world. He suddenly undoes the button of his jeans and tugs at them. Alin merely stares at him, mouth agape.

"What are you doing?" he demands abruptly and the Bulgarian pauses, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"Uh, what does it look like?" he asks, voice a little harsh but it's evident he's in a good mood despite the few bruises blossoming over his pale skin from the fight earlier.

"I don't sleep with my clothes on." Nikolai states with a shrug, as if that is the most natural thing in the world.

As if to accentuate his point he takes off his T-shirt and Alin thinks how this is some sort of elaborate torture on the other's part. He just stares at him.

Nikolai's skin is smooth and pale over his torso. His muscles are pronounced but not obtrusive. He looks like someone who trains and trains hard but only does it to feel good and maybe the occasional fight, not for the show.

Nikolai looks good, more than good and Alin forces himself to turn away and busy himself untying his shoe laces with more care than he ever has.

The Bulgarian rambles on about something random, he complains about Radko a few times and praises Katya. Alin doesn't hear a word of it, busy ordering some stray shoes and placing his jacket tentively on the hanger.

When he turns around he's in for a surprise.

Nikolai is standing oppose him, strong arms crossed over his chest…in nothing but his boxers.

Alin can't stop himself before he lets out a small, drawn out sound, "Oooh."

He feels stupid and embarrassed and wonders why he can't act normally around other human beings.

Nikolai raises an eyebrow, "See something you like?" he teases and Alin nearly faints when the other winks at him. His cheeks are a thick crimson colour at this point while the Bulgarian roars with laughter.

"What's so funny?" Alin finally manages to say once he overcomes some of his embarrassment. He looks pointedly at his feet, clad in purple socks and refuses to cast a glance in the other's direction.

"Your face," Nikolai continues to boast with laughter and the Romanian hopes the neighbours are either very heavy sleepers or at the very least they've stuffed their ears with something and won't come barging to his door and demanding explanations as to why the fuck someone's laughing in three in the morning.

"You look as if you've never seen another guy in his boxers before."

Alin tries to think of an excuse and murmurs a soft, "I have, in P.E" as he pushes past the Bulgarian and heads for the living room.

Nikolai doesn't say anything as Alin vaguely gestures towards the couch before opting for the bedroom to get some spare sheets, blankets and pillows. The other dots on him, taking the time to enjoy masterfully drawn paintings in expensive frames or steal a glance at the library.

"You don't think you're having me on the couch do you?" the taller teen demands in the end when Alin stretches out a hand to get some boring white sheets.

"Uh, yeah I do," the Romanian retorts, "Don't you think it's a little audacious to make a man sleep on the couch in his own house?"

Nikolai scoffs, "First of all, that's the hospitable thing to do,"

"Well, maybe I'm not a hospitable person," Alin cuts in, teasing the other as some of his previous confidence and playfulness have returned after the initial shock and surprise (and badly hidden admiration) of seeing the other in his underwear.

"Oh, I beg to differ," Nikolai chuckles, "And besides, who said you'd sleep on the couch?"

At first Alin doesn't understand what the other means and merely stares at him, mouth a gape. Right before asking him to clarify his eyes widen.

"You want us to sleep together!?"

"Why not," the Bulgarian shrugs nonchantly before throwing himself on his bed, as if to indicate his point.

Alin is at loss of words and for a good thirty seconds he just stares, unable to say anything back. Nikolai laughs once again before throwing the covers over himself.

"Shower first." Alin suggests weakly, trying to buy himself time. He'd never imagined the other would actually sleep in his bed, he'd thought it would just be them sharing jokes on the couch and then dozing off in different rooms, let alone different beds.

"Ay, ay," the Bulgarian jokes, giving him a sloppy, improvised salute before heading for the bathroom.

Alin throws himself on the bed, feeling like a heroine from some cheap rom com teenage flick. On the one hand he is elated that the other's going to sleep with him, no that sounded wrong, sleep _next_ to him (in a totally platonic way of course).

But on the other he is terrified. What if something slips his mouth? What if he tells the other he likes him a little more (a lot more) than a classmate or a friend? What if his hands wonder over him, cuddling him in his sleep and the other finds it disgusting.

What if this impromptu sleepover ends their friendship and it's all his fault?

Alin doesn't have any more time to ponder over the dire situation as Nikolai walks into his room, small water droplets glistening over pale skin, navy blue boxers dangling from his hand while he has a red towel wrapped around his waist.

"Do you Bulgarians have any idea what boundaries mean!?" Alin nearly shouts and Nikolai rolls his eyes.

"Give me some credit here, at least I put on a towel for you princess." He retorts before sitting on the end of the bed.

"Aren't you going to shower as well?" he inquires, turning to face him.

The Romanian nods, pulling out his pajamas and a pair of boxers of his own before going for the bathroom.

When he returns (after a lot of life pondering under the hot stream of the shower), he finds Nikolai already lying on the bed, a book in his hand, no surprise there.

The window is open and Alin shivers in his pajamas as he heads over to shut it closed.

"Hey, it's too hot here!" Nikolai complains, shutting the book closed. Alin already knows he's read (insert book title here).

"Not for me," he replies, flashing the other a toothy grin and attempting to act nonchantly, "My house, my rules."

The Bulgarian pouts at him but Alin ignores it and heads for the bed, turning off the lights.

"Nice pajamas by the way," Nikolai teases and some of the street lights peek into the room, illuminating his face.

Alin can't stop himself before musing over how attractive the other looks, the gentle light making his pale skin almost glowing and his green eyes a peculiar silvery shade.

It's mesmerizing and Alin has a feeling he won't forget this picture for a long time.

"You're just jealous you don't have the courage to wear pink pajamas," Alin retorts in the end but his reply takes a minute too long and he can feel the atmosphere between them shift.

"True that." Nikolai replies and something in his voice makes the Romanian wonder if perhaps the simple banter has more meaning than either of them lets on.

In a few hesitant steps Alin by his bed, lifting the cover slowly before settling in.

"Alin, if this bothers you, then maybe I should take the couch," Nikolai points out, voice quieter and softer now.

" _Nu, nu, nu_ ," Alin responds quickly, waving his hands. The last thing he wants in the world is for the other to leave.

Just the opposite, as embarrassed and nervous as he is, he wants to remember everything about this quiet moment, the way to street lights illuminate the other's face, the smell of the impending autumn in the air, the soft touch of the covers.

He wants to bookmark this precise moment, put it in some cherished folder of his memory and then go back and look at it over and over again.

"It's fine," he says in the end and lays on the bed.

It's awkward for a few minutes that stretch into eternity and then Nikolai breaks the silence, "You haven't done this before?"

Alin bites his lip, unsure how to reply. He's never shared a bed before; he's never been close to anyone. He likes people from afar, before they get close and he has to be honest, showing them the real him which in his opinion isn't a pretty picture.

Alin is a master of tricks and disguise. He dies his hair blonde because society likes blonde and he plays the role of the Goth teen from Eastern Europe and most people don't ask for anything more.

But Nikolai does, Nikolai is the first to really look at him. He doesn't care about the vampire talk and the Goth clothes and all the other tricks Alin uses to steer away the conversation from himself, the real Alin Popescu.

" _Nu_ ," he answers in the end and he can feel the Bulgarian shift, turning to his right side, so that he can face him. Alin instinctively does the same.

It's just them and the silence of the apartment, the crisp autumn air and the cheap lights from the streets. Alin feels likes this is some sort of safe Heaven and he wonders if perhaps he's dead or fast asleep because there is no way this is real, that Nikolai is real and only a few inches away from him.

He doesn't dare touch him, as if he's scared that he's a hallucination, something his lonely mind has painted to make the world look less bleak

"Is it a routine for you to share a bed with someone else?" Alin finds himself asking, desperate to fill in the silence before his mind convinces that maybe Nikolai isn't real.

"Actually, yes." The Bulgarian replies and Alin raises an eyebrow, surprised at the answer.

"I sleep with Radko." The other says, voice as nonchalant as always.

"You what?" Alin nearly cries out before hushing himself, remembering the neighbours' prized sleep, "You don't mean…"

Nikolai waves a hand in the semi-dark, "No of course not. If I were to ever fuck a guy that Serbian piece of shit would be the last on my list."

(Alin has to bite his tongue so he doesn't ask what place he has on that list.)

"Then?"

"Well," Nikolai seems to struggle with what he's about to say next, almost as if he's unsure of what Alin will think of him, "We're ditch poor as I'm sure you've noticed."

Alin merely nods, there's no point to deny the obvious.

"We don't have the money for another bed. So…yeah. Me and Radko and one big ass bed."

The Romanian doesn't say anything for a few moments, letting his imagination paint the picture of the temperamental Bulgarian and the violent Serbian in the same bad, fully clothed fortunately, and fast asleep.

"It-it's not like we cuddle or some shit," Nikolai assures, "I mean the bed is big."

"It's okay, Niko." Alin says, voice soft and quiet. When the Bulgarian relaxes and gives him an appreciative glance something blossoms in his chest and he tries very hard not to raise his hand and run in down the other's face.

"You don't think I'm disgusting for being poor to the point that I have to share a bed with a psychopath who hates me?" he asks and the sarcasm is back but his voice is still softer than usual.

Alin chuckles, "No. And I don't think there's anything wrong with being poor."

Nikolai frowns at the words, almost if they're too good to be true.

"I don't." the Romanian assures, "Most of my country's poor anyway and…it's not a crime."

The Bulgarian doesn't say anything for a long time and Alin wonders if perhaps he's dozing but then the other speaks up again, "Do you want to talk about tonight? About the bar?"

A series of events flash before Alin upon hearing the hushed question. The evening at the bar seems so far away, almost if it's happened years ago. It's a strange feeling, how for years his life was boring and now in the manner of one evening that has spilled into the night he's lived more than in the last decade.

"No," he retorts, voice honest.

"You don't have to come again if you don't want to."

"But I do," the Romanian argues and it's not a lie. Nikolai is something fresh and different, something that stands apart from his routine and something he can't help but become addicted to. And everything the other does, everything around him, every piece of his world is something Alin wants to explore.

Even the dusty bars with Eastern European criminals.

 _"_ _Добре,_ _"_ Nikolai says and Alin can hear the sleepiness rubbing off from his voice.

They chat for a few minutes more, it's a lazy chat like the ones you have with a close friend and the Romanian can already feel his eyelids heavy.

The pause between Nikolai's responses stretch and within minutes he's asleep. Alin isn't far behind.

Falling asleep is easy, just like falling for the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for not posting last Saturday. My grandfather passed away and to be honest I didn't feel like working on the stories…
> 
> What did you think of the sleepover? Do you enjoy the slow progress the two are making?
> 
> What did you think of Niko sharing small details about himself? I promise I will write all about his past in future chapters!
> 
> Btw what did you think of Trump's victory? You can read my thoughts on my new fic: Show Must Go On, which is in the Hetalia Fandom as well, it's centred around America's p.o.v
> 
> If you're enjoying the story, please share your opinion, feedback it always every motivating !


	7. Philosophic Talks on a Rooftop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the nice, supportive comments after the previous chapter, they really mean a lot!

 

**Philosophic Talks on a Rooftop**

 

Alin wakes up to the sight of a pale Bulgarian, mere inches away from his face, his hands firmly wrapped around him. A small wave of shock washes over him but he isn't one to protest. When he takes a closer look he notices his own hands are wrapped around the other's neck and he isn't entirely too sure what to think of it.

The pleasant feeling that blossoms in his chest tells him that whatever this is, it's good thing and for now that's all he cares about.

Thinking is hard and Alin needs sleeps so he forces his eyes shut. Before he nods off he makes a point to snuggle in closer and relish in the warmth of the other that rubs of onto him.

 

**xxx**

 

Alin wakes up once again three hours later when his last alarm goes off with an annoying and high pitched sound. He shuts it off before nearly falling of the bed, the sheets a tangled mess.

He blinks a few times and notices the Bulgarian is nowhere around which causes a small twinge of panic in his chest. He pushes the feeling away as he gets up and hesitates if he should put on some clothes, going against it in the end, the other has already been acquainted with the glory that his pink pajamas stand for the night before.

He heads for the hall where the pleasant smell of homemade pancakes fills his senses as he's not sure if this isn't a dream. For a second he toys with the idea that maybe his mum is back but then remembers she and Sorina won't be home till Sunday afternoon.

Alin decides to inspect whatever is going on and opts for the kitchen where he is met by one of the most beautiful sights – a cooking Nikolai in nothing but his boxers.

The Bulgarian seems engrossed in the task at hand as he flips the pan with ease and the pancake makes a pleasant sizzling sound against its surface.

He even hums a little and the shorter teen makes a mental note to add singing to the list of the other's talents.

Alin just stares for a moment too long in nothing short of admiration.

"You never said you could cook," he says in the end and Nikolai doesn't startle, he merely puts down the pan and turns to greet him with a grin.

" _Добро утро_ ," he greets and Alin notices how the smile really suits, "And you never asked."

" _Bună dimineața_ " the Romanian shoots back and they both chuckle over the exchange of greetings in their mother tongues.

It's something small and silly but to them it's a big deal, like a quiet assurance that they understand each other and they're not alone in the vast American land where one can easily get lost.

"I love cooking, it's my favourite thing in the world," Nikolai explains as he shuts off the stove, all the pancakes an even golden brown colour. He puts them in a large plate and Alin vaguely remembers he's never given permission to the other for the kitchen. But he's not one to protest.

Niko places his masterpiece at the centre of table before opening a jar of strawberry jam that he materializes seemingly from thin air and starts to spread it evenly over the pancakes in long, smooth movements.

Alin stares at his pale hands and he's nearly in trans, taking every detail of the other and admiring the ease and confidence behind the other's movements.

How can something so small that the other does look this good?

He feels like a stupid teen with a hopeless crush but he can't help it.

"I can't cook at all," he admits with a sheepish grin as he takes a bit from the first pancake.

His friend shoots him a look that reads, _"Why am I not surprised?"_

"This is amazing!" Alin cries out and the kitchen is filled by the small moans he makes as he takes another bite.

Nikolai breaks into a bout of heartfelt laughter,

"Dude you seriously sound like we're having sex!"

"Well, I just lost my virginity to delicious food then," Alin argues, a little surprised at his own words. Normally he never allows himself to be this comfortable around people.

The Bulgarian shoots him a look that lasts a second too long and it almost seems as if there's something more behind it.

"You should be a cook!" he points out as he moves onto the next pancake, searching for a way to change the topic before he makes it even more awkward between them.

Nikolai smiles at him, really smiles, none of that smirking goodness.

It's a genuine smile that lights up his entire face and he looks younger and innocent. All the harshness around him disappears and is replaced with something else, some peculiar sort of childlike happiness.

"That's my dream," Ivanov admits after a pause that is longer that it should be and the words sound like that one line from a movie everyone is bound to remember.

But there is the threat of _"however"_ hanging in the air.

"Then why don't you pursue it?" Alin inquires as he squints his eyes at the other, the sunlight that streams from the kitchen window making it hard to look at him directly.

Nikolai laughs once again but this time the sound is tainted with cynicism.

"Cause nothing's ever that easy."

"That's just an excuse."

"And me being a cook is just a dream, nothing more."

Alin wants to argue and desperately so but he bites his tongue and focuses on the breakfast. He's already learnt that when the other wants to share he will, pushing him is no good.

Next to Niko he feels young and naïve, almost as if he there's a barrier between them at times and it has nothing to do with the language.

But he wants to prove the other long, he wants him to be happy and successful, he wants him gone from the smelly bar and the horrible Radko and the entire madness that the shady Ivan brings into their lives.

And he's not one to easily give up.

It's strange feeling how much the other's happiness has become a quest of his own.

 

**xxx**

 

The new school week goes well and Alin finds it refreshing to be able to talk with his classmates, to enjoy simple, light hearted conversations.

_There is some odd beauty in not thinking too much at times._

It's not that he doesn't like depth, just the opposite – he is addicted to it and the Bulgarian is the epitome of that – but sometime he needs a distraction, he needs something light hearted and fun, something to remind him life is after all an adventure meant to be lived, not analyzed.

And his classmates are just that – always smiling and lively, caught up in the obligatory teenage drama.

Such as Feliciano and Ludwig going on a date a few days ago.

The news spread throughout the school like wild fire, after all the Italian isn't one to keep his mouth shut but Alin takes small pride in the fact he was one of the first whom the other told.

He feels closer to the gang, almost as if he for once belongs somewhere.

He even gets invited to a party which naturally goes on in Alfred's house although the host isn't one to show up much, apparently busy arguing about something with Arthur in his room. The others don't seem too bothered by it, playing it off as some sort of regular occurrence between the two.

"So, tell me all about how it happened!" Francis insists on as he shoots his friend and inquiring glance.

The Italian isn't sure on details, almost light headed with happiness but apparently it had something to do with Gilbert smashing their heads together and all but ordering them to get their shit together and finally go on a date.

"Can you imagine that Ludwig actually…he kissed me!" Feliciano exclaims, waving his hands around which earns him an eye roll from Lovina and two thumbs up from Antonio.

"See, I wish I could tell other people that!" the Spaniard complains melodramatically to which his girlfriend stomps on his foot and suddenly he's very appreciative that at least she doesn't wear high heels.

"Ludwig tasted so nice too!" the Italian continues on with his rant but Alin doesn't mind, if anything he rather likes the chatter.

Plus his imagination strays and he lets himself imagine what it would feel like to have the Bulgarian kiss him.

For a second there he closes his eyes and can almost sense the other's lips over his own, the way he'd probably bite his lower lip. Alin smirks, the other has always struck him as the type to like biting. He would probably taste bitter, like smoke and strong alcohol – the two things he's become synonymous with in his mind.

The Romanian is pulled away from his day dream as he hears the distinct sound of arguing and he snaps around, afraid it might be Nikolai that is once again in trouble. Fortunately it's not him but rather Alfred and Arthur, locked up in what feels like a scandal.

"What's up with that?" he asks, shooting a glance at the rest of the gang.

"Oh, it's just Arthur's usual horrible display of what he calls "strong character", Francis jokes, light blue eyes dancing over the shorter blonde, "I on the other hand just call it being a stubborn ass."

"I'm telling you, I'm right about this!" Alfred's voice booms and flies across the large room, raising a few eyebrows.

"Seems to me Alfred has a temper too," Alin mumbles under his nose but from what he's seen he's willing to be on the American's side.

He's not sure he likes the Brit after the way he's treated his Niko. Plus the feeling of superiority that surrounds the shorter blonde isn't something he appreciates; he's never been on to enjoy smugness.

Soon enough the two teens walk away, apparently having realized there aren't enough snacks and opting to fetch some in between threatening to murder each other.

Just as Alin is about to ask some questions Ludwig finally arrives at the party, followed by one very smirking Gilbert.

"Hey!" Feliciano exclaims, tan face quickly becoming red.

Alin finds it both hilarious and adorable how strongly the other reacts at the sight of the German.

"Hello, Feliciano," the blonde greets, face the epitome of embarrassment, "Uh, hello everyone."

The Romanian has to bite his tongue not to laugh out loud, he wonders how long it would take for those two to just kiss in front of others.

"Ow, come on, aren't you gonna kiss?" Gilbert teases, as if reading his mind and shooting them both some suggestive glances.

"Yeah, get on it with it, we could use some action here!" Antonio claps his hands.

"Love is something that shouldn't be hidden!" Francis proclaims overdramatically and Alin has to kick himself not to snicker at how cheesy the other sounded some times.

To his surprise it is Feliciano that quickly stands up from his chair and smashes his lips against Ludwig who in turn seems a little shocked at first but doesn't pull back. In fact, he places his hands over the smaller teen's shoulders, steadying him before pulling him closer, savouring the kiss.

The entire room goes into a soft "oww," while Antonio cries out an: _"It was about damn time!"_ and Gilbert claps over enthusiastically.

Alin's glad this isn't their first kiss for he believes that should be a private matter.

Still the embarrassment between the two teens soon melts away and when they break apart they meet each other's eyes, Feliciano's lips stretching into a shit eating grin.

"I could get used to that," he states and Ludwig is one to mirror his smile.

" _Ja,_ me too."

Soon enough things are back to normal, the euphoria about them finally becoming a couple dissipating as quickly as it came.

Gilbert has suggested they go do something that Alin isn't interested in but he vaguely hears it has to do with drinking. Soon enough everyone follows the albino, with Ludwig in the lead, holding hands with Feliciano while warning his brother not to stir trouble.

The Romanian is left with Francis and he quickly shifts his gaze towards him, taking the time to study him.

Truth to be told they haven't interacted much but he likes the guy as a whole, minus the obtrusive sexual humour and the flair for drama that he himself is guilty of at times (only difference being he doesn't say it out loud).

Now though the French teen has a pensive look on his face, one that doesn't suit him and seems a little mismatched with his normally cheerful predisposition. His expression speaks of some underlining sadness or melancholy perhaps.

"You're not going to go with them?" he inquires, taking a seat closer to him now that it's just the two of them.

Francis seems a little startled by his voice, almost as if for a second or so he's forgotten where he is, lost in thought.

Then just as fast as it has slipped the mask is back on and he waves a hand dismissively.

"Nah, I have much better things to do!" he insists, lips locked into a smirk that can almost as pass as a genuine one.

"Like what?" Alin presses on, always one to be blunt, "Pouting?"

The other's smirk falters and he can see the hesitation in his blue eyes, the moment his brain's doing the calculations, weighing in on whether he should be trusted or not.

In the end it seems he has passed the test and a sigh flies past the French's lips.

Alin waits for him to share but then the moment passes and it's only the silence between them and the lively chatter of the others that comes from the patio that remains.

"So you don't wanna talk?" Alin asks in the end, shooting him one last hopeful look.

"Maybe you first," the French says, always one to play games, "I could see that look on your face while Feliciano and Ludwig kissed…"

He pauses, biting his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood, "I know that look. I've been there."

"Francis, I think you _are_ there," Alin admits in some rash, uncharacteristic display of honesty.

Perhaps the Bulgarian is already rubbing of on him.

The French scoffs, "And here I thought I was playing smooth…the others at least don't seem to notice. Or care for that matter."

The Romanian stares at him, taken aback by the fact that this hot, smart and popular guy who is everything he's not can be doubting himself. Then again, when he thinks about it – shouldn't have the others asked for him to come along?

Shouldn't have Antonio, his supposed best friend, have cared at least a little about the fact that Francis was hurting? Now granted the blonde wasn't one to show it but still, if he could see something was wrong, why couldn't they?

"Is it that obvious I like Arthur?" the French inquires and his voice is smaller this time, the usual flair for drama gone. It's sincere now and Alin likes it better this way.

He offers a small nod, "Yeah, I think everyone pretty much knows."

" _Merde_ ," the blonde swears under his breath quietly.

A new bout of awkward silence hangs in the air and the Romanian's brain races with ways to continue the conversation, to offer some small dose of comfort to the other because he genuine believes he needs it.

"So, since Arthur is kinda in love with Alfred and Alfred is madly in love with him, my love life is officially screwed," the French declares, taking a generous swing from his wine glass.

Alin flinches at the underlining hurt in his words, the way he tries to play it off as nothing adding a new layer to how badly he must feel. He wants to stretch out a hand, to help the other but his own awkwardness and inexperience prevents him from doing so.

So often he feels as though there is some invisible wall between him and others, stopping him from being close to them when he doesn't have the first clue about how to dismantle said wall.

"What about your love life," Francis asks out of the blue, sitting closer to him and effectively closing off any opportunity to put the focus on himself so Alin can help him.

"I uh, I don't have a love life,"

"Bullshit," the French scoffs, "You aren't the only one who's observant around."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I might play dumb but I can see the way you look at that Bulgarian."

Alin suddenly feels a little light headed, blood rushing to his face and his palms sweating. He knew parties were a bad idea, he shouldn't have come in the first place.

"And that reaction tell me it's not just a crush, is it?"

The Romanian looks away as inquisitive blue eyes dig into his dark brown ones.

Francis sighs, he doesn't even have to answer, that's how obvious it is.

"Good luck with that one," he says downing on his glass of wine.

"He's straight." Alin points out flatly, words hanging awkwardly in the air before falling flat between them.

Francis offers him a sympathetic glance,

"I'm sorry. Believe me I know how you feel…Unrequited love is…it's a bitch."

The Romanian is a little taken aback by his coldness, his swearing which contrasts sharply against his normally polite, corny even manners.

"Does it get better?" he inquires, voice small.

He's slightly disgusted at how he sounds like a kid asking his older brother for advice but he's glad the other doesn't seem to judge him his utter lack of experience the way he expected.

"No," Francis shoots back and it sounds as if he's more certain about this than anything else, "It doesn't. You love him till you get over it, _if_ you get over it."

Alin shudders at the words and he himself takes a large sip of the wine, hoping it would dull the ached in his chest.

The prospect of Nikolai never loving him back is as bitter as the taste of the wine.

 

**xxx**

 

Niko doesn't act any different post their cuddling session and Alin can barely suppress his disappointment. He's not sure what he's expected but surely, that changed things, didn't it?

Apparently not, as the Bulgarian continues in his usual ways, as if nothing between them has happened. The shorter teen can't silence Francis' words playing on repeat in his mind.

It's just another day with the two of them and after finishing the long English lessons, Ivanov has some genius idea of spending the rest of the evening.

Alin hesitates since his "genius" ideas spell trouble more often than not but in the end he caves in and lets the other lead the way.

"Come on, you're taking too long!" the Bulgarian declares, as energetic as always and tugging on his hand.

The Romanian freezes as he feels the other's warm hand over his own, long fingers curling around his.

The gesture seems natural and simple, as are most things with the other. Nikolai doesn't even stop, he just tugs at his hand and drags him own towards whatever "adventure" he has come up with his free night.

For a guy this hell bent on acting though, he sure as hell seems childlike at times.

Alin's squeezes the other's hand and his lips curl into a smile as he enjoys the contact, soaks in it and let's his imagination paint pretty pictures in subdued light colours.

Perhaps it's wrong and he's fooling himself and walking towards disappointment but he can't help it, his mind firmly locked on thinking of the other.

 

**xxx**

 

They buy burgers for dinner and Nikolai demands they take vodka too. Alin imagines his mother somehow finding out and the prospect of the frown over her face makes him reconsider.

After one long argument and being called a pussy the Bulgarian finally gives up with a melodramatic sigh and a pout that Alin finds more adorable than threatening.

As it turns out the mystery place they're heading is some construction site that seems abandoned for the time being.

The Romanian's dark brown eyes fall over it, making the outlines of it in the purple twilight of the evening. It looks a little creepy but he likes creepy, always having been drawn to everything dark and mysterious for some inexplicable reason.

"Come on, don't be a chicken!" Niko demands, tugging at his hand once again.

He takes the time to study the other in this new light, taking in how his features are the epitome of excitement, pupils dilating like two large black dots against the beautiful green of his iris.

"What is little Alin scared?" the Bulgarian teases as he raises a devious eyebrow, lips stretching into a trademark smirk when he mistakes his stare for hesitation.

"Like hell!" the Romanian declares as a bout of determination sprouts in his chest and he heads towards the building.

"That's more like it!" Ivanov shouts after him, the enthusiasm and happiness in his voice echoing through the dark and framing the moment with some gold tinted feeling of happiness that teenage years possess.

 

**xxx**

 

They climb up the building quickly and before long they are at the top, a breath taking canvas stretching before they eyes.

"Wow, it's so pretty," Alin says in child-like amazement, words flying past his lips.

To his surprise, Nikolai doesn't play a smartass, he doesn't protest.

 _"_ _Да, така е,_ _"_ he admits and his voice is softer than usual, soaked in new found peace.

The Romanian slowly turns around, shifting his gaze from the lights of the city submerged in the evening darkness to him.

The Bulgarian's lips are stretched into a small, pensive smile. It suites him, makes him look younger and more content, taking away the usual sharpness and toughness that he's surrounded himself with like a wall to keep others out.

Alin's expression mimics his and he too smiles, finding it next to impossible to not be happy when the other is.

Nikolai can apparently sense his stare and he shift as well until their eyes lock.

Deep brown falls onto silvery green and Alin tries desperately to find something in those eyes, a reflection of what he's sure is written in his own. His heart slams against his chest as he notices the soft expression in those green irises, the way the other looks at him speaks of no hostility, of nothing fake.

But he's not sure if it speaks of love or that is just his imagination leading him on, desperate to make things seems the way he wants them to be.

Nikolai is the first to break the spell, as usual.

He turns around, lips stretching into a grin, "This some sort of staring contest or what?"

Alin scoffs, disappointment washing over him as the moment is gone.

Still, he can't argue for more, the other's friendship is an expensive gift on its own and he has no intention of losing it.

They eat the burgers while leisurely chatting about everything and nothing in particular, taking sips from the Sprite they've bought.

Once they're done with that Nikolai takes out a packages and starts rolling his own cigarettes.

Alin's eyes immediately fall over his pale, skilled hands and their quick, fluent movements.

He's always been a little on the clumsy side so the other's dexterity is something he takes a fascination with.

"It's cheaper this way," the Bulgarian explains as he licks the paper with which he rolls the cigarette to seal it.

"Don't say that," Alin warns as he sits nearer him, "It takes the magic away."

The taller teen raises an eyebrow, scoffing at his words.

"I mean it, I don't get why you always try to sell yourself short," the Romanian asserts, tone a little more excited than it should be, "Really, you're more than what you give credit yourself for."

He says the words in a rush before he has the chance to think them through and soon comes to regret them as their left with the awkwardness hanging between them.

Nikolai has an unreadable expression over his face and he opens his mouth, as if to say something but then thinks against it and shuts it closed.

Alin waits for something to happen but nothing does and in the end the moment is gone.

The Bulgarian takes a long drag from the cigarette and blows the smoke in his face before breaking into a laugh.

His pulse quickens as the other's melodic laughter soars above them, light like the smoke. There is something inexplicably lively about the green eyed teen, something he feels like has become long lost by most people.

The other lives, he doesn't merely exist.

He enjoys his time, cherishes even the most simple things, he takes profound pleasure in taking a smoke, in climbing up an abandoned building, in simply being.

And Alin is infatuated with that, this approach to life which seems strange and unusual to him, new and exciting.

"You wanna a try?" Niko asks as he holds the smoke before him.

The Romanian hesitates for a moment too long, weighing in between the excitement of trying something new and his usual fears and worry, his rigid beliefs of what is good and bad.

"Oh, come on, it's burning out!" the other demands, his short temper making itself known.

Alin takes the cigarette and the other seems surprised but perhaps he himself is.

He inhales the smoke quickly, wondering half way through if what he's doing it the right way. Then again what could possibly go wrong?

He then breaks into a coughing fit, answering his own question. He coughs harshly as Niko takes the cigarette away, roaring with laughter.

"Oh, you should have seen your face, this is so fucking funny!"

Alin glares at him, wiping off a few stray tears that come from the coughing.

"Some friend you are!" he declares, nudging him with his elbow in the ribs.

But he's not actually mad, he can rarely be with the other, despite his quick temper and crazy ideas which he has a feeling would pretty soon land them in trouble. Or in jail. Or both.

"You love me just the way I am," Niko teases and Alin can only smirk at how true the words are, even if the other doesn't realize it.

They continue to chat leisurely, flying from one topic to another and often laughing at their own awkward inside jokes. They talk about Romania and Bulgaria here and there, they talk about their classmates, make fun of the teachers.

It's simple and ordinary but it makes Alin happier and he ever has been and he muses that perhaps it's precisely such moments that hold the magic to life.

"You cold?" Nikolai's thick voice breaks him away from his little introspection as he looks up to meet a pair of green orbs, concern dancing behind them.

Something melts in the Romanian's chest as he realizes the other cares about him, a feeling he's never experienced before with anyone.

Before he can answer the taller teen steps in closer, wrapping a hand around him and effectively pulling him into a hug as a way to warm him.

Alin's heart slams against his chest at the sudden contact and he can only hope the other can't actually hear his frantic heartbeat.

"Is this normal?" he asks, hoping to get some sort of concrete answer from the other, "I mean two guys hugging like this and all."

The Bulgarian scoffs at his question but he pulls him closer,

"I say normal is whatever we say it is," he responds, smile flickering across his face.

Alin holds his gaze and he can only hope that it isn't his imagination playing tricks on him as he sees his own feelings reflected in the field of green.

He has the sudden urge to kiss the other but his own insecurity prevents from it, not to mention he doesn't feel the need to rush this in.

So he relaxes, melting into the other's hug and lets himself be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of Feliciano and Ludwig finally being together? Aren't they like one of the most epic couples ever?
> 
> And Francis – I adore France and I really want to write more of him! Plus France and Romania have always had a nice relationship, kind of like cousins xD
> 
> And last but not least – what did you think of their shared moments between Alin and Niko? what do you think is Niko falling in love at last?
> 
> Next chapter – a lot will happen, get hyped!


	8. New to the Story

 

**New to the Story**

 

Days fly by and the majority of the time Alin finds himself with the most sheepish smile dancing over his lips. He blames none other than Nikolai Ivanov for that.

Feliciano has caught up as well and sends him mischievous winks daily, already having given up on warning him about the Bulgarian since it's evident Alin isn't one to listen.

(That or the Italian is too busy living his own fairy tale with Ludwig to have time to elaborate on other people's lives. If only more people were that way the world would be a better place he thinks).

Mostly it's a good time for Alin even if the Bulgarian continues with his relentless teasing and lack of concrete actions. The Romanian is always wanting more but uncertain of actually asking for it as his old insecurity and protective walls occasionally come up once again and leave him hesitant.

Then there are times when Nikolai just disappears all together and he has no idea where he is for days.

Needless to say Alin's imagination runs wild and fills him in on the details in gruesome dark shades while the other always downplays the dangers with a smirk or a roll of his eyes.

"Don't worry, everything's fine," is all but his motto at this point.

At best the Bulgarian sends in lazy texts or links to crude, sexual humour which the Romanian only chuckles to. Still, he figures even the weird kinda humour is perhaps a part of his charm.

The random disappearances though certainly are not.

He doesn't want to think about what the other's doing when he's away but the suspicions still invade his mind and it's not pretty. He hears the rumours too, as much as he tries to ignore them. Alfred appears to be worried about him, warning him about Nikolai's activities in between all the jokes and the usual chants about how great he is.

Despite that tone the American's tone is mostly light hearted and he insists on being the hero in the situation his sky blue eyes still speak of concern.

"My dad's a cop and he has some pretty bad info about Ivan and his pals. Niko included," that Alfred tells him one day and although Alin tries to laugh it off his heart still slams against his chest.

Arthur is worse as he outright glares at him, having changed his attitude. The Romanian no longer likes him but still tries to be friendly, he's terrified of bullying which always seems only a step away.

He closes his eyes, wishing Nikolai was with him. They haven't done anything since the accidental cuddling session and strangely enough Alin is glad he's even had that. He wants everything and more with the other but even if he never gets it, he's content with friendship.

(And then there are the times when he's close to tears because the other's like a drug to him and he's not doing well with abstinence).

 

**xxx**

 

Alin hasn't seen him in four days and he's starting to get worried.

He bites his lip, glaring at the home screen of his cellphone which has a wallpaper of the two of them on it. The Romanian likes to reassure himself that at least Nikolai made the picture his wallpaper as well (despite the teasing and the playful roll of his eyes).

He notices the last ten calls he's made to the other which have went without an answer and frowns as his imagination begins to stray in the wrong direction.

"Earth to Alin, focus!"

He snaps in the direction of the voice as he meets Elizaveta's cold green eyes.

They're currently having a study session at his house for whatever latest bizarre project their Biology teacher has come up with. And naturally since Nikolai hasn't shown up he just had to be paired with the person he liked least out of the entire class.

Elizaveta probably isn't all _that_ bad, it's just that Alin can't stand her for some reason he can't quite explain.

She's towering a few inches above him, hands locked over her hips as she gives him a poignant glare. She flips back a lock of fluffy, wavy brown hair that smells deliciously like almond conditioner and sighs, exasperated.

"I swear, you're the worst partner in the universe."

Alin opens his mouth to shoot something back but he can't really argue with that, after all his mind _is_ elsewhere. Still, he's starting to dislike Elisaveta's more and more by the minute.

He's familiar with the idiotic rivalry and hatred between Romania and Hungary. Never has he imagined however being part of it. And yet here they are, living up to the stereotype. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, he's not a fan of confrontation.

Roderich, her Austrian boyfriend who seems to have a lot of patience when it comes to her, puts a small hand over her shoulder.

"Relax, my love. There will always be stupid people."

Alin rolls his eyes; he really wishes Nikolai was here.

When he does appear though, he's in for a lecture.

 

**xxx**

 

After two hours of searching over Google for answers and an equal amount of listening to Elisaveta's critique and Roderich's complaining Alin is sure he knows hell on Earth.

He's blaming Nikolai for all this. It would have been a hundred times better if they'd teamed up instead of having to listen to all this. Now granted the Bulgarian isn't one to study much but at the very least he'd be good company.

Just as Alin's all but given up on the project and is starting to consider ways on how to pass the make-up text, he hears a ring on the door and leaps in its direction, hoping for a miracle.

Elizaveta protests after him but he promptly pretends not to hear her, dashing for the door as Roderich mumbles something in Austrian. Talk about being saved by the bell.

When he opens the door he's in for a surprise and his dark brown eyes widen to nearly comic proportions.

Before him stands none other than Nikolai in all his glory: ruffle short brown hair, pale face with reddened cheeks, large green eyes bloodshot and lips locked into a crooked smile.

Alin takes a step back as he notices his disheveled appearance. Somehow he still manages to appear hot and the Romanian has no idea how he's capable of that, must be some sort of magic trick he has up his sleeve.

Ivanov's supporting himself on the door frame, features locked in the most idiotic grin he's ever seen. He holds a vodka bottle and Alin doesn't have to think twice to realize that's the reason for his behaviour.

His clothes, a crumpled white T-shirt and baggy grey sweatpants stink of alcohol and what he can only assume is weed.

"Aren't you gonna give me a hug?" the Bulgarian slurs as he takes a shaky step in his direction and the shorter teen nearly stumbles back as he wraps both hands around his neck.

Alin can feel his hot breath over the exposed strip of skin on his neck and it gives him goose bumps. Still the other reeks of alcohol and he's none too happy about it.

He knows the other, like most Bulgarians, has an absurd alcohol tolerance, so he has to wonder – how the hell did he get _this_ drunk? Alin realizes Niko loves drinking and lots of it but he's never seen him in such a state.

Then again…how much does he really know about his friend?

Is it possible there's an entire side of him that he's turned a blind eye to, too infatuated with the other to take into account his real nature?

"Not happy to see me?" Ivanov asks as he pulls back, raising an eyebrow. Alin doesn't miss the hurt that flashes through his blood shot green eyes.

"I'm not happy you're swimming in alcohol," the Romanian deadpans, he utterly and completely hates alcoholics with a passion.

"Pff, I'm just a little tipsy," Nikolai laughs, his laughter loud and out of place, belonging only to drunks and madmen.

Alin furrows his brows, this isn't good. The Bulgarian's life choices seem all the more terrifying now that he sees the direct consequences of them. Still, leaving him has never been an option.

"Come inside," he orders and the boy for once obeys, wrapping a hand his shoulders and leaning in.

"Alin, did I ever tell you smell so fucking good, man!" Niko exclaims over enthusiastically as he snuggles closer to him and then breaks into yet another bout of laughter.

"Can't say the same about you right now." The shorter boy grumbles under his breath.

It's weird to walk like this, the other towering over him and waving his hands frantically. Alin doesn't even want to think how ridiculous they look and how much fun Elisaveta's going to have with it. He takes another step, struggling under their combined weight but then stops dead in his tracks as he hears a loud gasp.

He raises his head only to meet Elizaveta and Roderich's combined outraged glare.

"What is this?" the girl demands while the Austrian seems so shocked he finds it hard to speak for a good minute or so.

"Hey, Elizavetaaa!" Nikolai shouts, sending her a wave and a flirtatious kiss.

It makes Alin's blood boil while the Hungarian goes red in the face.

"Don't you dare talk to her like that!" Roderich demands, jumping before her as if she's been landed some great insult.

"Or what you'll fucking play me an angry piano song!?" Nikolai breaks into loud, booming laughter and tears slide down his pale face.

"I only did that like one time when we were in fifth grade." The Austrian mumbles under his breath in defense.

The Bulgarian merely huffs at his words mumbling something about "real men" and "trading blows".

"Aren't you going to kick this savage out, Alin?" Roderich presses on, pointing in the direction of the taller boy.

The Romanian glares at his classmates, heart slamming against his chest,

"He's my friend, he's not going anywhere." He replies, voice law and flat. He's surprised at his own display of character.

"You hear that, fancy pants?" Niko jokes and sticks his tongue out as Alin drags him further. The other's swaying badly and his words are barely comprehensive. Not good.

"He's drunk out of his mind," Elizaveta points out and the Romanian is so surprised by the tiny flecks of care behind her voice that he almost questions if he perhaps imagined them,

"We should put him under the shower."

Alin finds himself agreeing with her for the first time since he met her. Before he can respond though the Bulgarian all but collapses and he has to struggle to keep them up.

"A little help here?"

"I'm not touching it." Roderich sneers, glaring daggers at Nikolai. The Bulgarian struggles to come up with some sort of comeback but seems too drunk to do it.

Then to Alin's surprise Elizaveta steps up and offers a helping hand. The Romanian stares at her, expecting an explanation but she remains silent.

Roderich sighs melodramatically before joining them, "I'll burn my clothes after this to get rid of the smell of vodka."

Alin frowns, he can forgive a person who fucks up like Nikolai but he can't forgive people who won't help.

He knows better than anyone how much people need help at times.

 

**xxx**

 

It is only through their combined efforts that they drag Nikolai to the bathroom.

"Run the water cold," Elizaveta orders them around but Alin for once isn't about to complain for her taking charge. He just has to wonder – how does she know any of this and more importantly – why does she care?

"We should strip him so he doesn't get his clothes wet," she adds, sending a calculating look in the direction of her classmate.

"I can't believe I have to watch this." Roderich grumbles, averting his gaze, "This is worse than Gilbert getting stupid drunk on the twins' birthday."

"Mmm, don't know about it, that was pretty bad too," Elizaveta chuckles under her breath and Alin is surprised to find out she actually has a sense of humour, especially in the time of a crisis.

Perhaps she really isn't that bad, just not his type of a person.

She then steps in closer, ready to take off the other's clothes and he changes his mind once again. Something in him snaps, he can't stand the sight of her touching Niko.

A tiny voice in his head argues that's what's called jealousy but he silences it and focuses on the current situation.

"Maybe I should do it," he blurts out before he can stop himself and is met by the bewildered looks of his classmates.

"Why are you his boyfriend or something?"

"Yeah, as if Nikolai would ever be gay. He's more likely to beat up a guy for being gay, alongside with Ivan and that brute Radko. Just look at what happened to Feliks and Toris "

The words make Alin shudder, he hates that prospect. But he shakes his head, there are more pressing matters than wallowing in self-pity about his hopeless crush.

Without an explanation he steps in closer and undresses the other, being met with the canvas of his smooth, pale torso. Alin has to take a deep breath to not be turned on by the sight of his well-defined muscles.

Roderich is glaring and he can sense the air of jealousy. After all the Austrian does look out of shape.

He doesn't waste any time and quickly pulls the head of the shower closer, setting the water on cold and all but bathing the other.

"This is pathetic." Roderich grumbles, swiftly turning on his heel and leaving.

Elizaveta's gaze lingers over the pale Bulgarian before she turns to follow,

"I'll go get some towels."

Alin doesn't even register her words although later he has to admit he's surprised at her for finding the spare towels that quickly.

Now though he's left alone with a half-naked, drunk out of his mind Niko and that's all but a recipe for disaster.

Alin can't stop himself from gently running his fingers down his face and then lower, over his clavicle and chest. He shudders at the touch, admiring the smooth pale canvas before him.

He feels guilty for doing it, after all Ivanov is out of it. Still, a tiny part of him hopes that maybe he wouldn't mind it too much and he clings onto that part.

It's then that Nikolai choses to open his eyes and it nearly makes him jump back and hit his head in the wall.

"Alin," the Bulgarian mumbles, eyes out of focus. He takes a good few moments to look around, "You taking care of me or some shit?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Nikolai's lips stretch into a smile and it almost knocks the breath out of Alin's lungs, that's how pretty a sight it is.

"You're the best man." Ivanov adds and then raises a hand, tracing his face and unintentionally copying his own actions mere moments ago.

The Romanian freezes at the touch, the other's fingers are icy cold and wet but the movement is electrifying.

They stare at each other for what seems like eternity and Alin lets himself get lost in the depth of the green eyes opposite him.

Forest green, flecks of gold and turquoise dance before him and suddenly it's all he sees. The dim light of the bathroom lamp dims them a little but he still loves the colour, it's vivid and unique and something that's become synonymous with the other for him.

He sees the sadness and misunderstanding in the other's eyes, the abandonment that mirrors his own. But he sees something else too, he sees embers of hope and a want to belong, to be close.

Before Alin knows what's going on Nikolai props himself on his elbows and leans in.

Their lips lock together and it's nothing like in the movies.

It's not passionate or hot. No, it's slow and gentle and it screams of both insecurity and a wordless need to belong, to explore, to caress.

Nikolai's lips are icy cold, chapped and they taste like a mix of vodka and no filter cigarettes. It's not the best taste in the world, not even close, but for now it's all Alin wants.

The other licks his bottom lip, as if asking for an entrance. There is something strangely endearing in how gentle the stoic, violent Bulgarian is.

Something almost enchanting in his own insecurity, masterfully hidden behind a rough around the edges persona he's carefully built for himself.

Alin feels clumsy and awkward against the kiss, it's nothing like in the books or movies or even the corny Fanfiction he reads on his phone at night. There is no dramatic pop song in the background and it's not raining.

(Doesn't it always rain when two characters kiss?)

But no, this is real life, and it's just the two of them on the bathroom floor and Alin is pretty sure his pants are already wet and he's freezing his ass off.

To top it all off Nikolai is drunk out of his mind and the kiss is sloppy and beyond awkward and yet…For one short moment Alin feels like this is Heaven on Earth.

Then he hears a gasp and his head snaps for the door, Elizaveta is standing at the threshold, holding onto the prized towels. She looks as if she might drop them any second as the expression painted on her face is one of utter shock.

Alin pulls away while Niko is too out of it to realize what's going on and soon goes back to heavily leaning against the wall, slurring something in his drunkenness.

The girl steps closer and hands him the towels in a sort of stiff, diplomatic manner as she pretends she hasn't seen anything.

Alin opens his mouth to offer an explanation of sorts but no words come out, his heart slamming against his chest as if it wants to get out.

What is there to say?  
What she's seen, the way they acted speaks volumes for itself.

It's then that once again the doorbell rings and as if on instinct he jumps for it while the Hungarian steps in closer to their classmate.

Alin has no idea what's going on, his brain barely able to register the fact he's just had his first kiss.

 

**xxx**

 

His thoughts are hazy, running in all directions and slamming against each other. His heart rate is of the charts, pure adrenaline rushing through his veins. He awaits impatiently to wake up and realize this was all a dream but it never happens.

Alin heads for the door in large, quick steps and he's so preoccupied with what has just happened that he doesn't even have the time to ponder about who his mystery guest is.

He opens the door only to freeze at the sight. A familiar face, one he hasn't met but he's seen on photos from Nikolai's phone.

A tall man greets him with the most terrifying smile he's ever seen to date:

"I'm Ivan Braginski…and you have something of mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you enjoy Niko and Alin kissing? Was it awkward or cute or both?
> 
> Did it surprise you? Heh, hopefully I did.
> 
> Now, about Hungary – I actually love this country, it's so badass and also very unique and different from the rest of Europe! That's why if Elizaveta came as a baddie in this it's only because the story if set from Alin's p.o.v and we all know Hungary and Romania still have some issues. (Though I hope them to be resolved!)
> 
> And btw yes there will definitely be A LOT of backstory with Niko and Elizaveta as you probably figure it out xD
> 
> Aaand last but not least – Russia is here! What are your thoughts on that?
> 
> Please, review!


	9. Remember Me Not

 

**Remember Me Not**

 

Ivan Braginski is very tall, pale and well… terrifying. There is no other word that comes to Alin's mind as he meets the other's stone cold gaze.

A small smile's playing over his colourless lips but nothing about said smile speaks of happiness or warmth. In fact the smile makes him even scarier, as it contrasts with the look in his eyes.

Ivan's eyes are a pale shade of blue, so pale than under the fluorescent lighting it resembles an unnatural violet colour. His features are similar to Nikolai's, unmistakably Eastern European and his skin is pale too. Only difference is his hair a cold, almost colourless blonde-gray colour.

"You have something of mine." the Russian repeats as he hasn't gotten any answer for him yet.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Alin replies automatically but of course he knows what or better yet who the other is referring to.

" _Да_ , you do know." the older man smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes.

 _A person can smile and smile and still be a villain._ The familiar line flies through his head.

Alin has to wonder how can Nikolai voluntarily hang out with such a person.

"You have Nikolai." the Russian points out when he is met with no answer once again, "He told Radko he'll come here."

His voice is low and supposedly polite but Alin can make out the tone of threat hidden underneath the heavily accented words any day.

"I don't think you understand." Ivan presses, leaning at the door frame.

Alin keeps a close eye on him, noting the other is absurdly muscular, even more so than Nikolai. That's not what worries him the most but rather the gun which gently pokes out of the Russian's belt.

"You see, Alin, Nikolai told me about you.'"

The words snatch him back to reality and he momentarily panics staring at the other dumbfound, unsure if he's going to like what the other is about to say.

"Nikolai likes you. He thinks you're nice. He even said cute that one time we were drunk together. I though would use another word…weak." the blonde man chuckles, squinting his eyes in a glare. The last word is spit out as if it's the greatest insult on Earth.

Alin can pinpoint that this is the exact moment when Ivan seems to have switched to full on threat mode.

"I like that Nikolai is making friends…he and Radko they have no friends." Ivan shakes his head in mocking way, "You see they have a bit of …bad tamper."

"Seems to be in the family." Alin blurts out before he can stop himself.

The Russian looks somewhat caught off guard by the witty remark and his creepy eyes widen for a second, the black of the pupils contrasting sharply against the blue of the irises, but other than that he doesn't react to it.

"As I said I'm glad you are Nikolai's friend but…I know friends can hurt you…especially friends who you really care about."

Alin can feel his cheeks begin to flush which is absurd because now is the worst time to be embarrassed. But still – does Nikolai really care about him? He can't stop his mind from racing – what if – was there really a chance that the Bulgarian likes him back? That their kiss was more than just a mistake made in drunken stupor?

He is brought back to reality when Ivan stretches a pale hand and forcefully opens the door.

The Romanian instinctively pulls away, he can feel his heart slam against his chest.

"I never invited you in." he rasps out, mouth making a move before his brain.

Ivan doesn't pay attention to his words, a lazy smirk playing over his lips.

He pushes him aside like nothing and steps into the house, taking in the hall and the pictures hanging from the walls. Alin doubts he's a fan of art. Or fan of anything other than himself. Maybe violence too, violence and alcohol, garnered with hatred for anyone who's different.

"Haven't you heard an old Russian proverb?" the blonde asks, turning to look at him, his smirk now morphing into an almost predatory grin.

"Russians don't need invitations. We take what we want." Ivan explains, seemingly amused.

"That's not a witty remark. At all." Alin spins around only to face Elizaveta with her arms crossed over her chest and a glare directed at the newcomer.

One thing he has to admit is that the girl has balls.

"Oh, if it isn't Elizaveta and her snobby boyfriend!" the Russian chuckles, glancing at the two, "Oh, come on Austria, hiding behind your girlfriend's skirt – that's cowardly. Even for someone like you."

Roderich opens his mouth to say something, probably come up with some complex insult but the girl raises a hand to stop him, as if giving the non-verbal equivalent of it's not worth it.

"If you don't leave, I'm calling the police." the Hungarian threatens and takes out her phone from the back pocket, as if to showcase she's not bluffing.

"And we all know the police will be more than happy to hear about you."

Ivan breaks into a laugh, shaking his head. The sound echoes in the apartment, drenched in cynicism.

Alin has to wonder what made the boy this hateful.

"Look at you, acting all fancy and shit, Elizaveta." he says, voice now lower and bearing the edge of threat, "But do you honestly think I don't know who you really are?"

Alin turns to his classmate only to see all the colour withdraw from her face. Her lover turns to give her a questioning look because he apparently has no idea what the other is talking about.

"What, you thought Nikolai didn't tell me about you?" the Russian squints his eyes, voice a hiss, "Oh, he wouldn't stop talking about you."

The Austrian's sharp navy blue eyes widen and his mind races to a conclusion and it is not a pretty one. He stares at his girlfriend expectantly.

Elizaveta bites her bottom lip, nervously and her hands shake a little.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" she claims, voice high pitched and shaky.

Alin is taken aback by the sudden change in the girl's behaviour. His normally calm and collected classmate who always knows what to say is now reduced a shaking mess.

"One thing I hate the most in this world is people who don't know their place. People who go against their own. Traitors and people who think that just by pretending they can fool others into believing they're something they're not." Ivan hisses, his watery eyes now firmly locked with those of his former classmate.

"Me and Radko, we know all about you and the likes of you," he hisses, "And it's cause you're girl I won't smack you."

 

**xxx**

 

The Russian turns around and walks towards the bathroom, supposedly on pure intuition. Alin is at loss of words and can't even come up with a way to stop him. They all enter the bathroom where Nikolai is starting to stir up.

The Romanian feels embarrassed for his sake but something's telling him, this is not the first time the other is in such a state.

Ivan doesn't seem shocked or anything, in fact he looks as if he is so used to this and he himself has been in this position many times. He squats next to the smaller teen and shakes him, saying something in his mother tongue.

Alin is taken aback at the gentleness that pokes from the edges of his actions. When that doesn't work as well as he wants, he unceremoniously takes the shower, turns water cold and bathes the other, pouring water over his pale face the same way the Romanian did some ten minutes ago.

It works perfectly and Nikolai gasps for air as icy cold water makes its way into his nose, not the most pleasant feeling in the world.

He doesn't know where he is, which really isn't all that shocking and it's certainly not the first time. But he hasn't done this in a while, at least not since he met Alin.

He forces his eyes to focus on pure will and he recognizes the familiar pale face looming over him, the soft Eastern European features he's come to know.

Ivan. He calms down a little – the Russian might be a monster to the outward world but he did care about the family they've built for each other. Not to mention, he would never judge someone for being wasted. He simply doesn't have the right to since he himself has done it more times than either of them can count.

Braginski doesn't give him a chance to fully rouse and instead pulls him into a sitting position.

" _Добро_ _e_ _утро_ " he says in a flat voice, mocking seriousness, but Nikolai can hear the tease behind it.

"Ugh…Добро утро.

 _Къде по дяволите съм_?" he grunts, opting to use Bulgarian because English is impossible right now.

"You're in my house." a familiar voice says and Nikolai turns around, too fast as his spinning head complains. His green eyes fall over Alin, the short teen standing a few feet away from him, hands crossed over his chest. .

He is surprised the Romanian understood what he meant since he said in Bulgarian but then again it probably wasn't that hard to guess the meaning from context.

"Oh." is all he can come up with as he rubs his forehead and feels like an idiot.

For the first time in years, he is embarrassed. He doesn't want the other to see him like this. Elizaveta and Rodrich are there too which makes everything ten times worse. He doesn't care about the pompous Austrian bastard but Elizaveta…Never mind, the worst thing is that Alin has to witness him wasted and he knows that's not a pretty sight.

Ivan unceremoniously, yanks him to his feet, effectively breaking him away from his thoughts.

"Can you walk or do I have to carry you like a doll?" the taller teen teases omce again and Nikolai rolls his eyes.

"I can…try to walk." he mumbles, not too sure of that.

How much had he and Radko drunk again? The memory is blurry around the edges but he knows it was more than two bottles.

He can't even look at Alin, this is so beyond embarrassing.

"I'm so sorry." he mutters

"It's okay, we saw a good show tonight." Roderich mocks and Nikolai has the sudden urge to make it an even better show by knocking out a few of his perfect teeth.

"It's okay." he hears Alin say but there is the unmistakable air of disappointment behind his voice.

Nikolai hangs his head low and it's not even because of the hangover. He rarely has a hangover since he is Bulgarian after all and alcohol hardly works on him. He normally prides himself on being such a good drinker but right now…he realizes how stupid and pathetic that is.

Alcoholism isn't really a cool perspective.

"What are you apologizing for?" Ivan demands, voice stern, "Getting drunk is the most natural thing a man can do, it's just that these pussies her don't get it. Fucking American fags."

"Hey, that is not something you should be saying!" Roderich nearly screams in frustration, ignoring Elizaveta's attempts to calm him down.

The image of his cousin Ludwig, who has recently confined in him for being gay flashes before his eyes and he can't help but have the urge to punch the Russian for being a homophobic asshole.

"Unless you can stop me, I can say whatever the fuck I want, you pretentious fucking pussy."

"Come on, Ivan, getting into a fight with him is useless." Nikolai protests, trying to calm the other before he straight up bashes his head into the wall. Once Braginski gets angry things go south, and he knows even he doesn't stand a chance at restraining him.

"Yeah, it would be like hitting a girl." Ivan hisses, sending one final glare at the direction of the Austrian who surprisingly doesn't flinch under the icy blue gaze but rather glares right back.

With that Nikolai quickens his pace, wobbling a little. It's a miracle he can walk after the amount he drunk but then again he's been much worse than this. Ivan steadies him a little as they walk out the house and head for the car in silence because really – what is there to say?

Halfway through the walk he realizes he doesn't even have his T-shirt on and he can feel his face heat up in embarrassment for the first time in… he doesn't even know how long.

He doesn't turn around to face Alin. He doesn't deserve to. He is pathetic. Getting drunk and going to his house and…and probably really embarrassing himself in the process.

He rubs his temples – who knows what he said? Then again he did have a feeling that the other likes him…, so maybe not all is lost.  
"You okay?" Ivan asks as they make their way to the vehicle. The Russian holds the door open for him and helps him get in the beaten up old car.

Nikolai is surprised at how gentle the other is but then again he probably shouldn't be. Most of the time Ivan is gentle, just not to everyone. Underneath all the hatred and violence, the alcohol abuse and bigotry the Russian still has a heart, he just choses to show it to a very restricted group of people.  
Him, Katya, Natalya and Radko. Maybe there were a few other on and off members but for the most part it was just the four of them.

Ivan always made sure to look out for them and Niko felt he had a debt for him he could never repay. After all the other had in a way saved him and Radko all those years ago.

So he focuses on the kindness Ivan has for him and ignores the rest, he closes his eyes to the crimes and hatred, to the pain he's caused to other people. People like Feliks and Toris among many.

"Uh-uh." he manages to croak out as he fiddles with the safety belt.

"You're getting out of shape. For drinking I mean. That little Romanian bitch has a bad effect – he makes you more…."

"Civil." the Bulgarian finishes for him, closing his eyes as he leans against the front seat and shivers in his current shirtless state.

"He makes you act as if you're not yourself." Ivan grumbles but Nikolai can make out the fear and jealousy in his voice.

Is Ivan really jealous of Alin? Is he scared of losing him? Does he even mean anything, to anyone?

"I don't even fucking know myself." Nikolai mutters, before he can stop himself. Half way through the sentence he realizes how pathetic it sounds but he can't help the way he feels.

The Russian lets out a small, mocking laugh.

"Now you're talking like them. Those rich, pretentious American little shits on Tumblr or whatever the fuck that is."

Nikolai remembers Alin's Tumblr page as he lets a small smirk play over his lips.

"What if…what if this isn't really who I am?" Nikolai asks, pointing to the dirty car and the stench of alcohol. It's more of a rhetorical question than anything else.

 _"_ _What if I can be something better?"_ he muses but never says it out loud.

He doesn't dare dream that he can amount to something more, that he can ever be something other than a poor criminal living with two psychopaths and two innocent girls who are dragged into their mess.

Ivan grips the wheel, squinting his eyes over the road.

"There is nothing wrong with who we are. Don't ever let those rich assholes get into your head." he asserts, voice stone cold and flat, barely hiding the hatred that stands behind the words.

Nikolai nods and looks away, concentrating on the dark road ahead.

He closes his eyes and the only thing he sees is the disappointment written behind Alin's eyes.

And it's then that something flashes before his eyes, a pretty picture.

Him and Alin on the bathroom floor, their lips locked.

The thing is he knows the pretty picture is no idea or dream, it's a memory.

Niko lets a small gasp fly pass his lips as he realizes the extent of the situation – he's just kissed his best and only friend.

And he kissed best.

Only problem is, how could he do that when all his life he's sworn to be straight? Panic washes over him as he grips the edge of his seat.

_По дяволите._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Nikolai is fucked up. I know most stories make him a straight A student with the morale of a saint but I just couldn't bring myself to write him in such a way. It seemed very unnatural and OC to me. What do you think of this approach to him?
> 
> Translation: По дяволите. - To hell with it. (Bg)  
> Добро(e) утро - Good morning (Rus, Bg)
> 
> What did you guys think of our favourite bad guy Russia? What kind of backstory do you expect there is between him and Niko? And will Alin set them apart? I just love reading your suggestions!
> 
> Ivan's remarks about Elizaveta will come to play in a big way, so keep an eye for that, even if it's not centred around Nikolai and Alin (for now).
> 
> Please review and share your opinions!


	10. Simple or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter discusses some heavier topics such as internalized homophobia and criticizes certain countries for their hatred towards the LGBT community.




**Simple or Not**

 

Alin had only one way to describe the days after the kiss: _long_.

They're long hours, all meshed up together with him wondering just as to what he's got himself into.

On the one hand the kiss plays on repeat in his mind like a broken record and he enjoys every minute of it, reliving the sensation as much as it was possible. On the other, though, is there any chance Niko was going to return his feelings? Or is he leading himself for disappointment?

The Romanian bites his lip, chances for the other to love him back are probably around zero.

A wave of bitterness washes over him as he realizes it's probably nothing more than a drunken fuck up for the Bulgarian. Most likely one of his many drunken fuck ups.

What if he's mistaken him for some pretty girl he liked?

That seems like a much more plausible scenario in his head than the other returning his feelings.

Or perhaps he has a thing for kissing people when drunk. That happens with some people, doesn't it?

Nikolai dioesn't do much to reassure him, replying to his texts with the shortest answers possible and sending some lazy jokes or memes.

Alin shakes his head, maybe he doesn't even remember the damn kiss. After all, legendary alcohol tolerance or not, he was pretty damn drunk.

He sinks into the mattress of his bed, burying his nose into the covers when the memory of him and Niko flashes before his closed eyes. Naturally the sheets no longer smell like the Bulgarian and there isn't even the slightest trace of cigarette smoke in his home.

It makes Alin feel bitter, he wishes to cling onto the small moments he's shared with the Bulgarian. His heart is filled with terror as he realizes there is a possibility each time it was the last moment they shared.

After all, what if the other just left?

People have a knack for leaving him, if they even come for him in the first place.

The familiar feeling of self-hatred fills his being and Alin forces the pillow over his face, in vain hope he'll somehow make the thought go away.

At the very least Monday is coming closer and that's when he's meeting with the Bulgarian.

 

xxx

 

When they finally meet Alin can tell the atmosphere between them isn't the same from the moment they lay eyes on each other. He vaguely wonders if the other remembers about the kiss.

The way he tries to be casual so hard, the way he sucks on his cigarettes a little too impatiently tells him he does.

They're currently in his room after classes, like they've done so many times already. But now the silence between them isn't a comfortable pause in between all the talks, it's torture.

They try the small talk for a little while but each sentence is forced and out of place and it makes Alin want to look away.

Except he can't. His dark brown eyes are always finding their way over the other, taking in every detail about him, as if he hasn't already learned them by heart. His glance falls over his chapped pink lips, the way they stand nicely against pale skin.

Niko licks his lips in an uncharacteristically awkward gesture and then shuts his green eyes closed.

"Just fucking say it," he grumbles, out of the blue, refusing to meet his glance.

Alin panics at the words, heart slamming against his ribcage much like it did during the kiss.

A long moment passes and then another but the Bulgarian isn't bulging and remains silent, eyes shut closed. The shorter boy muses perhaps this is a test, one to assess him although it seems like a long shot.

Nikolai might be hard to deal with but he's not one to play games and mess around, always blunt and straight forward, complex at his own internal drama yet eternally simple in his ways with others.

"So you remember the kiss?" he finds himself saying in the end, no longer able to bear the silence between them.

The Bulgarian opens his eyes and they stare at each other for a moment too long before he looks away once again, setting his gaze over something in the distance.

" _Да_ ," he answers simply but the small word echoes in Alin's mind.

Well, that changes everything and although he's no expert on love, he's smart enough to realize it.

The silence of the Bulgarian is deafening, it weighs heavily over him and threatens to crush him.

Alin scrambles, panic filling up his chest. He doesn't want the other to say it, doesn't want to hear his voice as he rejects him. He realizes that's the only possible outcome because after all – how could the other date him?

He wants to save him the trouble, the embarrassment of rejecting him. Perhaps he wants to save himself the pain of actually hearing out those words so instead he speaks up, a small spark of determination burning out in his voice.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk about it," he blurts out, words in a haste, "It never happened if you don't want it to have happened. Which, uh, I am sure you don't."

Nikolai looks at him, green eyes full of something he can't quite place. Is it disgust? Or maybe pity?

Is this what the end of a friendship looks like? He can't know, after all he's never had a friends to begin with.

All he knows is he wants the Bulgarian to stay, even as just a friend. He has a place in his life, he needs him as an anchor, someone to look out for in a crowd, a small reassurance he is not alone. He wants to cling onto whatever remains of the friendship they share, not ready to let go.

"I am so, so sorry." He offers, desperate to fix things between them before they're broken, "I-I know how bad it must feel to know you kissed me cause you know, just, I mean look at me,"

He chuckles but the sound is wrong, even to his own ears. He wants to hit himself for acting pathetic, for his low self-esteem which finally comes to the surface, for not being able to act the way he wants to.

"You don't have to be my friend if you don't want to, if-if what happened disgusts you or-"

Alin is unable to continue as he senses a large, warm hand over his mouth. He glances up, meeting the other's eyes which are nothing but green pools of fury.

"Alin Popescu, don't you ever fucking dare say some shit like that again," the Bulgarian hisses at him and he can't help but quiver under the intensity of the words.

He opens his mouth to say something but the other presses his fingers against his lips once more, effectively silencing him.

"If I ever hear you spew some self-degrading bullshit again, I swear I'll beat some sense into you. Literally."

Alin gulps at the statement, taking in how terrifying the other looks. He sees the resemblance with Radko clearly now, the harshness in him is more evident than ever. He sees Ivan too, sees his words and even mannerisms reflected in the Bulgarian.

"There is nothing wrong with who you are or the way you look and if anything you're one of the best people I've met." The Bulgarian finishes and his green eyes never leave his own.

He sounds more certain of this than anything else in the world and his strong words and conviction are able to break through the wall of insecurity Alin has surrounded himself with.

The Romanian can feel warmth spread through his entire being and for a second he plays with the idea he might be dreaming.

But no, this is real, Niko is real. He is so close that it almost hurts not to be able to be with him.

When the taller teen finally lets go of him he speaks up, voice small,

"Are you saying all of this just to make me feel better? Prepare me for rejection?" he asks, unable to meet the other's face, "Because if you are, you shouldn't be saying it all."

Alin is taken aback by what happens next, the way the other lunges forward and takes in his lips, the way this time the movement is more secure, more passionate.

This time he knows it means something. It's not the product of alcohol but something else, something he can't even allow himself to hope for.

The Bulgarian's tongue falls over his own and Alin moans into the kiss, dizzy with pleasure. The other pulls him closer, buries a pale hand into his straight hair.

All he knows is that regardless of why this is happening, he doesn't want it to end.

But it does and when they break apart they stare at each other for a moment too long. When Alin sees the expression on the other's face he knows it's not a happy one.

He sighs, bracing himself for what the other is about to say.

"Alin…I can't do this," the Bulgarian's voice is small, a shadow of itself. It's drowned in his deep accent, raw with emotion.

It contrasts heavily with his words and actions just mere minutes ago and Alin founds himself at loss at the Nikolai's rapidly changing moods. How is it possible for the him be two completely different people mere moments apart?

Does he have any idea what his actions do to other people? Does he care at all or is this just a one man show for him?

It causes anger to sprout in Alin's chest and he has to bite his tongue not to scream at him.

"You do realize you just fucking kissed me, right?" he demands and he can't stop the glare he shoots him, "What kind of game is this? One minute you claim you like me, then you kiss me but in the end you pull back, claiming you can't be with me? Screw you man."

Nikolai looks away, shame written over his light features. He looks dejected, a look that doesn't suit him.

That immediately causes a wave of guilt to wash over Alin as he starts to regret the small outburst. He should have tried to listen out what he has to say, take in his reasons before lashing out.

He moves in closer to him, the mattress of his bed sinking in under their combined weight.

He puts a small hand over the Niko's shoulder and offers the tiniest of squeezes, surprised when he doesn't fight him off.

"Niko, is this because I'm a guy?"

That's the only explanation he can think of, the only thing that makes sense. Because if the Bulgarian does like him the way he claims, if he's ready to kiss him as eagerly as he does…then why not be with him?

It's supposed to be as simple as that…or not.

And indeed a small nod comes from the other, sealing in his suspicions.

Alin gulps hard as sympathy washes over him and his regret intensifies. He should have known.

The taller teen all but screamed self-hatred and internalized homophobia.

"You don't understand Alin, I just can't be with another man," the Bulgarian exclaims, shaking his head as utter horror flashes behind his green irises.

The Romanian has nothing to say, no magical words of comfort.

He's not good at this, he's too insecure himself to save others and he's not sure if whatever is going on between them is going to have a happy ending.

Mere minutes ago it felt as if Nikolai was saving him, as if he was the strong one. Now though the roles are reversed, and he's the one who has to offer help.

A small idea sparks in his mind and he wonders – isn't this what love is supposed to be like in the first place? Two broken pieces fitting in together?

It sounds nice but Alin isn't sure if he can make theory into practice, if he can fix things, himself or the other.

He feels naïve for not figuring it out earlier, the way the other always pulled away after stepping in closer. The way he tried to project self-esteem when he screamed of insecurity.

And him being a Bulgarian who lived with a Russian and a Serb only added fuel to the fire, like the last nail to the coffin.

Alin isn't one to be into politics but he knows about the hatred for gay people in Slavic countries. He's read all about the horror of beating up gays all because they dare to love someone. It sent shudders down his spine even before he met the Bulgarian but now he realizes all the horror that hatred brought personally.

"I-I can't do this," Niko repeats, voice barely above a whisper, "This is like- it's betraying my country, my family, everything I stand for,"

Alin hangs a skinny arm around him, in vain hope that can be some sort of comfort. The larger boy doesn't fight it off, in fact he moves in closer and that offers a small bout of fresh hope for him.

He suddenly feels angry but not him, rather at the people who've made him act this way.

Angry at Radko and Ivan who he knows have a finger in this. At them and all the other homophobic and hateful Eastern Europeans who've made Nikolai and thousands like him loathe a part of himself.

Alin realizes Romania is capable of homophobia as well but at least things aren't as bad as its neighbours. He knows there is work to be done but at least he can go home without getting jumped at for holding hands with a man. It's a small, maybe insignificant victory but it's still the start of something, the light at the end of the tunnel.

But this can't be said of the Slavic countries. Bulgaria is better, being a part of the EU and everything but there are still those who fall for the propaganda that comes from Russia and others.

Alin struggles with what to say, how to offer reassurance.

"Hey, look, I realize this is very hard for you and I myself am not one to really set an example of self-acceptance but…" he begins, biting on his lower lip, "I don't want you to hurt, Niko. I don't want you to be full of self-hatred for something you can't even control."

The Bulgarian meets his eyes and wants to protest but he silences him, wanting to finishing what he has to say while he still has the courage to.

"I'm not going to push you to be with me,"

"Alin I do want to be with you," Nikolai interjects before he can finish, a bit of his stubbornness and confidence having returned to his pale face, "I just…don't know if I can."

The Romanian offers him a small smile before leaning in placing a tiny kiss, this time over his nose so he doesn't scare him off. He savours in the contact, the other's warm skin over his pale lips.

"We can try. Take baby steps, see where they lead us."

Niko's lips curl into a tiny smile and then he offers a nod.

With some hesitation he wraps his hands around him, effectively pulling him into a hug. This time his movements are more intentional, they hold a meaning they did not before.

They aren't ones of a friend but rather a lover and the mere thought of that makes Alin almost dizzy.

"Baby steps." Nikolai asserts, whispering in his ear.

Alin nods as he shoots him a reassuring smile.

He isn't sure if this will work out but with all his heart he wishes it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, this isn't the final chapter, even if it did have that kind of feel to it xD
> 
> A lot more is yet to come and I hope you're interested in it!
> 
> What did you think of Niko and Alin's talk? Were you surprised at Niko's internalized homophobia or did you see that all along? Were you able to tell his confidence was in part an act? Hehe, I love reading your interpretations of the characters!
> 
> Do you think Alin can help him out with it? Or they can help out each other, as cheesy as it sounds?
> 
> P.S: If I have the time I might upload some special Christmas fics, so look out for that :)
> 
> Please share your thoughts and review!


	11. Fill in the Blanks

 

**Fill In the Blanks**

 

Alin is conflicted about what happens next.

He's never imagined being in a secret relationship. On the one hand it thrills him because he has always loved the idea of secrecy and mysteries are one of his favourite things in the world.

So hiding from others adds a layer of intricacy and interest and it makes his blood rush every time he sees Nikolai even more so than before. The looks they exchange in classes, the way they look their fingers under the desk when no one is looking – it's all addicting.

But… it gets old pretty fast. It's not enough.

Alin longs to be with the other every moment of the day, to have him close, wrap his scrawny arms around him, kiss him in front of everyone. Maybe he has a possessive streak more than he has realized before.

He looks at Feliciano and Ludwig, the way the Italian is comfortably snuggled up next to his boyfriend during recess. The bright smile playing across the Italian's face and the slight pink over the cheeks of the German.

Alin is glad about them but he can't stop the small flash of jealousy in his chest.

He wants that.

"Something wrong?" Nikolai asks from next to him and he turns around to meet his expression.

Alin knows it sounds cheesy but he still can't get over how handsome the other is. Large green eyes meet his and he can see the small traces of care behind them. The thought of someone loving him is still foreign and unusual to him, it makes him a little lightheaded.

He chides himself, the familiar bitter voice of self hatred ringing in his head. He should be glad someone loves him at all, even if it is a secret, shouldn't he? Surely this is more than he deserves…

"Nah, nothing's wrong," he brushes it off as if it's nothing.

Nikolai seems hesitant for a second or so as he checks whether someone is looking at them. No one is and so he leans in, lips dangerously close to his ear.

"I'll drop by at your place in the afternoon, that okay with you?"

Alin can only nod as his body all but freezes when the Bulgarian kisses his ear and then slowly bites his flesh. He has to pinch himself not to moan as the other proceeds to playfully lick his ear lobe and he all but melts into the chair.

"Okay, see you then," Niko says, shooting him a wink as he gets up an leaves, no doubt skipping classes to follow Ivan into whatever trouble he has come up with today.

The Romanian stares after him and he can't stop the bitterness that fills his mind. He is grateful for the other but he can't wash off the disappointment every time he leaves him, the way they have to hide as if what they're doing is wrong.

He can feel this is building up to a conflict but he chooses to focus on the good side of it and enjoy it.

xxx

Alin is glad that Niko holds up to his promise and comes by in the afternoon. He is in a good mood and whatever he's done with Ivan appears to have gone well.

And he can't help but wonder what it was. His imagination is a dark place and paints the pictures for him and he wonders how much of his guessing is true.

"So what did you in history class?" Niko asks casually as they lie on his bed, fingers intertwined. Alin still has to get used to the feeling of having him so close.

He frowns, he knows this is yet another one of those times when the other is distracting him, so he doesn't ask questions.

"Niko, what is that you do with Ivan?" he inquires, rolling over until he meets his eyes.

The Bulgarian looks a little surprised at the sudden question, apparently having become used to him not asking anything. Maybe Alin has spoiled him.

"Well, you know the bar," Nikolai replies, eyes straight on his. He has the vaguest feeling, call it intuition that the other is very good at lying.

"It's not just the bar," the Romanian almost snaps back, suddenly feeling exhausted. As much as he loves their relationship, he feels as though the secrets they keep are already weighing down on them.

"As much of a wreck that place is I know there are other things too," he presses on, surprised at his own courage.

He can see Nikolai already withdrawing, pulling his fingers away from him, sitting up in the bed.

"You're covered in bruises, you have these weird ass convresations in Bulgarian-Russain with Ivan on the phone and-" he bites his lip, unsure what else to say, "I'm worried."

"Well maybe we're secret agents here to infiltrate," the Bulgarian jokes but it falls flat and Alin is not having it.

"Radko hasn't shown up in I don't fucking know how long to school,"

"Not that anybody misses him," Niko interrupts.

"And I know Ivan was expelled…I just I don't want the same to happen to you," he admits, feeling his cheeks heat up. He shouldn't worry about this, shouldn't feel embarrassed that he cares about the other since after all… that's what boyfriends do.

Even the secret ones, right?

"Aw, little Alin is worried about me?" the larger teen asks, his previous reservedness melted away, an amused look over his face.

"I'm serious Nikolai!" he all but shouts as him which switches the atmosphere.

They stay still in silence for a few minutes and he hates it, the fact they're barely into the relationship and are already fighting.

Suddenly Ivanov steps in closer, large hand on his shoulder,

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I am." He asserts, voice certain, tone sincere.

"The only reason I'm not telling you about what I do with Ivan is because you're better left unknowing."

Alin bites his lip, one touch from the other and he's already forgiven him. But…he can't shake the feeling the secrets will keep them apart.

Niko turns him around, until they're close. He leans in closer, their noses touching in an eskimo kiss. He can't stop the sigh that escapes his lips, it's one of content.

The Bulgarian catches his lips and this time the kiss is softer, more gentle than usual, almost reassuring. He can never get used to the many ways the other is touching him, how they all carry a different emotion.

When they part they remain still for a few more minutes, soaking in the closeness.

"I just…feel like I don't know so much about you," Alin admits in the end since he can't escape from the tightness in his chest, the need to pour everything before the other.

(Although in the end he doesn't and he has his own secrets to keep).

"Well, my favourite colour is green,"

"Obviously," the Romanian interjects, a slight smirk having reclaimed its place on his face.

"I prefer dogs to cats. I like the cold weather. I fucking hate most modern music."

Alin listens intently, it's small tidbits of information and he knows most of it already but he still makes a mental note to remember it.

"And don't tell anyone but I really love flowers," Niko says in the end, a foolish smile dancing over his lips, making him appear younger, almost like a kid.

"Flowers?" the Romanian asks in surprise, unable to repress a small chuckle.

"Roses in particular. They're cliché but I've always liked them best,"

The Romanian has a strong urge to tease him about it but settles only for a wink shot in his direction.

"Niko, those are just random facts about you and as much as I like getting a PhD in Nikolai Ivanov-studies you know I wasn't asking about things like that."

Nikolai keeps silent for a moment too long and Alin is about to give up and change the subject but then he speaks up again.

"What do you wanna know?"

He bites his lip, unsure how far he can go with his questions.

"What about your family?"

The Bulgarian struggles with the question and looks away. Alin can practically see the walls around him erect, he can see the minute he pulls away from him. And yet he tells him and he can't help but feel special about it.

"My mother passed away at birth. My dad raised me in Bulgaria but unfortunately he got mixed up with some really bad people and…"

"And you ran to the USA?"

Nikolai nods,

"At the time it seemed like our only option."

The Romanian scoots closer to him, searching for intimacy. Although the other is skipping over the details and there is probably more to the story, he still appreciates him opening up.

"My dad was a good man but…once again he followed the wrong people. And soon enough he…"

Alin only nods, his imagination feeling in the blanks for him. He puts up a hand, wraps it around the other and snuggles closer. He inhales the other's smell, it's a nice one, whatever cheap perfume he uses it does it job, almost masks the heavy smell of cigarettes.

"Social service took me in afterwards and from the on –"

The Romanian listens and listens and he absorbs every word of it, making a mental note to remember. It's nice to see how the version of Niko's past he's made up in his mind matches up to the one of the real world.

 

**xxx**

 

_Nikolai is seven when he has his first meeting with foster care._

_He glances between the two women, eyes filled with terror. They are both staring at him with calculating expressions, judging his every movement, as if he is some sort of wild animal in the zoo._

_They chat between themselves, nodding their heads in a critical manner and jotting some notes in their big, fat books. He doesn't understand the majority of what they say._

_"_ _So where are you from again?" the first lady asks him. She is short and fat, flat bleached blonde hair falling to her shoulders. Her lipstick is an odd pink colour._

_Nikolai doesn't know why his mind is registering such things but as he reflects on the memory many years later, he realizes it is nothing but a coping mechanism._

_"_  Where _. Are. You. From?" the woman sneers once again, glaring at him in such a way that he whishes he didn't exist._

 _"_ _Bulgaria." he says, forcing himself to sound confident even if his voice is shaking._

_The two women exchange weirded glances, asking him to repeat. They have obviously never heard of his motherland._

_"_ _It must be some sort of village in Russia?" the other woman, who wears thick red-rimmed glasses and a long plaid skirt muses, absentmindedly._

 _"_ _I am not from Russia!" Nikolai protests and this time his voice sounds a lot more assured._

_The two Americans can even pin point the arrogant edge to it and that earns him a nasty glare._

_"_ _He must be from that country that fell apart recently." the shorthaired employee concludes._

_The other seems weirded out by her words._

_"_ _Oh, you know that one country that went to war and stuff?"_

_Nikolai takes a deep breath as he realizes they're talking about Yugoslavia._

_"_ _Yeah, but I can't recall the name of that country. Oh, well, we'll just write him down as Russian. Whatever, they're all Eastern European and poor anyway."_

_And at that precise moment something in Nikolai snaps and he realizes with absolute certainty he is all alone in this country where no one knows him or likes him._

_He gulps, trying to protest but the words die in his throat. He is nothing but a dirty, poor kid from a country they haven't even heard of. How many others are there like him? And they are all the same to them._

_His dad is gone, from here onwards he has no one._

_"_ _I don't think he'll fit in to well." the fat woman remarks, "He hardly speaks English."_

 _"_ _Yeah, well we don't have anything else like him."_

_Nikolai curls his palms into fists. He is not a thing! His father had always taught him that people were equal, regardless of where they came from._

_"_ _We have that one kid. You know, the one with the burns and scars. He's screwed in the head if you ask me."_

 _"_ _Oh, yes! I'm sure they'll get along."_

_xxx_

_Nikolai spends his time mostly alone in the foster home. It's not too bad, he tries to convince himself. He has food and a roof over his top and somewhere, at the back of his mind, he knows many kids can't allow this._

_He misses Bulgaria but at the same time realizes things are bad at his motherland. He remembers the poverty, the crime and all of that forces him to smile, despite everything._

_He remembers the burning Parliament and how his dad always said he couldn't play outside in the evening. He never said why but Nikolai knew why – it was dangerous._

_People got into fights, there were people who were shot in plain daylight. It was something the adults talked about in hushed voice but he knew things were bad. He was a smart kid, much smarter than any of the grownups suspected._

_The neighbouring countries were at war, he heard about that on the TV. Nikolai remembered how the red of the blood contrasted against his living room, he remembered the black of the burnt down houses._

_But now he is away from all of that. America is supposed to be better, isn't it? His dad would always say things would be so much better in the USA._

_His eyes fill with tears at the thought of his father but he quickly raises a pale hand and wipes them away. What kind of man was he? He isn't a damn child anymore, he was seven years old and-and…_

_He'll be fine. So what if he has no friends?_

_You don't need friends to survive. Just food, water and a bed to sleep in. He has that and a lot of kids don't. He shakes his head – he shouldn't complain._

_Him and Radko are secluded from the rest of the kids but the other hardly talks to him these days. The Serbian gets into fights daily and everyone hates him. Not that they like Nikolai, of course not. They make fun of him, mostly because he can't speak the damn language._

_English is hard and the only teacher they have is unwilling to teach anything in the first place, so he has just given up all together on making friends with the other kids._

_The teachers don't like trouble so him and Radko are quickly separated from the other kids and now they have their own room. It's quiet most of the time and Nikolai isn't sure he likes that._

_It's cold too but in some deranged way he enjoys it, at least at first. It reminds him of the harsh Bulgarian winters and how his father would cuddle with him and their cat on the coldest days. He closes his eyes and he's there, back to Sofia, back to the small, dingy apartment, back to the photos of his mother and their black and white cat. If he raises his hand he can almost pet the animal, feel the soft, fluffy fur underneath his fingers and hear its soothing purr._

(These days he doesn't like cats, they remind him too much of the past.)

_There are other memories too, his mother in a picture frame, light blue eyes filled with hope and joy, bright red dress contrasting against pale skin and making her look like a movie star when in fact she was just an ordinary Bulgarian woman._

_"_ _They're not fucking real," he hears a gruff voice and snaps in Radko's direction - the boy's sitting in the opposite corner of the room, knees pulled up to his chest._

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _Memories. They're gone, we're not going back there," the brunette says and Nikolai thinks how he sounds both like an adult and a kid, way too bitter for anyone their age and yet too young to let go._

_He opens his mouth to argue, argue that his father and the picture of his mother and the cat are real and so are all the other good memories from Bulgaria. They're real even as they are starting to fade like washed out photos from a long time ago._

_"_ _Our parents are dead," the Serbian stresses, sending him a glare from his one remaining brown eye, "Dead."_

_Nikolai wants to argue but can't and so he merely mutter a low "Fuck you" to the other to which Radko flips him off._

_Swearing is simple and easy and it's becoming something he does more and more. So it getting into trouble and sometimes he feels Radko is right – his family, Bulgaria it starts to seem like a distant memory._

_Slowly he's starting to turn into someone else, the good boy he once was is vanishing before his eyes and he finds getting into trouble is a newfound hobby that takes him away from the melancholy, makes something in his chest beat faster._

xxx

Alin snuggles closer to Niko as he says all of that and he can feel his chest constrict in sympathy. His own childhood wasn't a fairytale but he has always had his mum and grandparents and later on Sorina.

He turns around, until he's face is mere centimetres away from the other's.

"Hey," he interrupts and feels a little silly for doing it. It's all new to him, he's not sure exactly what he's supposed to do in a relationship.

But he acts on instinct, leans in, places his lips over Niko's. They're softer that day but the nicotine taste is still there. The other eagerly responds to the kiss, as if it's a getaway, an escape from the past.

His hands travel down and Alin is taken by surprise, unfamiliar to the touch. they feel warm though as they lift up his shirt and trace his sides. The touch even though it's not all that sexual, it's more of a way for seeking comfort at this point.

The other is good at what he does, the way his tongue falls over his own, teeth bite his bottom lip. His calloused fingers to some sort of magic to him and he all but moans at it.

And it's then of all times that he hears the familiar music, the loud metal song which tears him away from the kiss. It clashes horribly against the atmosphere, ruins it in seconds.

Nikolai pulls away, mumbling a quick _„_ _Извинявай,"_ halfway through.

Alin can't hide his disappointment as he catches "Ivan" written in bright Cyrillic letters on the phone screen.'

And then Niko says something in Bulgarian quickly, already on his feet. For the first time in his life he wishes the other's language was closer to his so he could understand, but alas he only manages the occasional "да".

"I have to go," the taller teen blurts out.

"Course you do," Alin all but grumbles back.

Ivanov is completely different when it comes to this, almost as if there are two versions of him – one when he is with him and then the other with Ivan. He has to wonder – which one is the real one?

Niko places a quick peck on his cheek and then he's out. Leaving him alone yet again.

The Romanian can feel the dark thoughts at the back of his mind creep out from the shadows and walk closer. He has to fight to stop them, he doesn't want to overthink as he usually does.

And so takes out his phone, deciding that if Niko's going to act like this, it's about time he paid some attention to his other friends as well.

xxx

The café is small, warm and well lit.

It practically screams Feliciano and Antonio and so he's not surprised the two have chosen to bring him here. Then there are Francis and Arthur, Alfred and Sadiq.

The atmosphere contrasts sharply against the cold, grim weather and Alin finds himself in instantly better mood once they get inside. The furniture is a mix of traditional Turkish style and modernism and he, being a fan of interior design, can definitely appreciate it.

"Hey, guys, what will it be today?"

The Romanian hears a pleasant, slightly accented voice and turns around to spot the waitress.

She's short and curvy and certainly very pretty. Long, pin straight hair falls to her waist graciously. Her skin is a deep tan colour and her eyes are pitch black and shiny. Alin squints his eyes, she reminds him vaguely of someone but he can't pin point exactly who.

"Hey, cuz!" she waves a hand enthusiastically towards Sadiq and now Alin finally connects the dots and realizes they bear similarity.

"Hey," the Turks greets and his lips stretch into a small, warm smile.

"You stunning as always, Elira!" Francis declares over-enthusiastically while the Brit nudges him in the ribs with his left elbow.

Sadiq doesn't seem all too pleased with Francis hitting on his cousin either but he seems to let it slide. In the meantime Alfred offers her a smile too and Alin can see they're all close.

"I'm Elira, nice too meet you," the girls says as she stretches out one hand, notes about the order in the other.

"Alin Popescu, nice too meet you took," the Romanian says quickly and takes in her warm, plump hand.

They chat leisurely and he soaks in the easiness between them. It's a breath of fresh air, a bright spot of normalcy. It contrast sharply against what he has with Nikolai and as much as he likes or maybe even loves the other, sometimes he is too intense to deal with.

Pretty soon two newcomers come along – Feliks and Toris. Alin quickly figures out they are a couple and by the looks of it – a pretty happy one. And then he remembers something Francis said a long time ago, the pieces clicking in his head – wasn't Felix the person Ivan had put in a hospital.

The Romanian eyes him from across the table, taking the long blond hair, nice pink clothes and high heels. His mind then travels back to the Russian – he can imagine for sure him beating up someone for being transgender. He shivers at the thought, what if he finds out about Niko and him?

"Alin, you okay?" he hears Feliciano ask and turns around, offering him a sloppy nod that comes out as forced.

"You worried about something, mon ami?"

"Having in mind he's best buds with Nikolai of all lads, he should be," Arthur grumbles from next to the French.

Alin can feel two pairs of green eyes over him and he turns in the direction of the newcomers.

"You're friends with Nikolai?" Feliks nearly cries out, surprise in his expressive yellow-green eyes. But there is something else too, shock, and maybe a tiny little bit of fear.

"One question – why?" he asks, after a few seconds in which he composes himself, "You do realize he's homophobic as hell, right? And I mean not to be rude but you're gay, aren't you?"

Toris gasps at the statement, mumbling a low,

"Feliks, you can't just ask people like that!" to which the Pole roles his eyes, saying people should be proud of who they are.

"He's not like that," Alin manages to say when the silence in the café stretches on and everyone expect an answer from him.

Feliks huffs in disagreement,

"Oh, yeah, I am pretty sure when Ivan was beating me up he was secretly very much against it," he presses on, voice icy cold, "Except for the part where he didn't say anything."

The Romanian gulps, unsure what to do or say to defend the other. Was this true? Niko would say something to oppose Ivan, right?

"Not to even mention what Radko almost did to Elira and how Ivan defended him. Again your Nikolai said nothing."

Once again it feels as though the whole café falls silent and Alin can pin point everyone going frozen still.

"You shouldn't have brought that up," Toris sighs as he casts a disappointing glance towards his boyfriend.

"Oh, what we should pretend that never fucking happened?!"

"What happened," Alin finds himself saying without thinking.

It takes a few seconds for someone to reply and in the end it's Arthur. He takes a glance towards Sadiq before speaking and the other nods, as if in silent approval,

"He has to know the kind of person he's friends with."

"What happened was that Ivan, Radko and your lad Niko used to come to this café. The Serbian started hitting on Elira and wouldn't take no for an answer. When she finally cut him off –"

"He went nuts. He tried to force her to be with him one night." Alfred finishes, his tan face locked in an unusual for him form of rage.

Francis scanned through the small café, making sure the girl was in the back and she couldn't hear them.

"Arthur and I were in the neighbourhood and managed to stop him, thank God." The American adds but Alin was too shocked to say anything.

"If I had seen him with his hands on her, I would have-"

Sadiq doesn't finish but the Romanian knows well enough what the implication is.

Everyone remains silent, as if unsure how to continue. Alin can't believe any of what he is hearing – can this really be true? Then again the others don't seem like the type to lie and Niko hasn't told him anything.

"You still haven't heard the best part. When Ivan heard about all this not only did he excuse Radko for what he did, he started a fight with Alfred and me for stopping him."

"And Nikolai?" he asks in a small voice, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Arthur scoffs, "What do you expect? He didn't do shit. He didn't defend Radko but he stayed away from the entire thing. And from what I can tell they still live together, don't they?"

Alin gulps, what previously seemed as teenage mischief in Radko and Ivan now appears to be criminals in the making. And to think his boyfriend is living with those people, that they are his family –

"If I were you I would stay the hell away from Nikolai. He's bad news." Arthur concludes.

"And if you're thinking you can be his friend or-" Feliks's eyes fall over his own knowingly, "More – just forget about it. He'd never change like that."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry if this felt like a filler but I need to fill in a lot of info and to set up some things in motion for the next chapters!
> 
> What did you think of Niko's past? There will be more flashbacks to come!
> 
> And what we learnt about the things Radko did – as I mentioned earlier the story will explore some very dark themes and it won't shy away from controversy.
> 
> So yeah – can you feel the drama coming? Nikolai's work with Ivan and the past will come over their heads full on.
> 
> What did you think of Feliks and Toris? There will more of them, I promise!
> 
> What are your thoughts on what will come next? Any guesses about the way the Ivan's activities with Niko will come into play?
> 
> Before I forget: Elira = Kosovo (her being Turkey's cousin is based on the two countries being very close. What Radko did is based on the treatment Serbia had for the country. I'll explain more on that in the final chapter with all the historical references and what not).
> 
> Извинявай = I'm sorry (BG)


	12. Oh, the Drama!

 

**Oh, the Drama!**

 

Alin tries to keep an open mind, he does. He tries to ignore the sneaking suspicion that whatever Ivan and Niko are up to is no good. And so he plasters on a fake smile and says everything is fine with him and with them as he always does.

They're currently alone in the Chemistry lab where he is desperately attempting to pour some knowledge into the Bulgarian's thick head. So far without success.

"Why the fuck do I need to study this?" Niko grumbles as he glares at the textbook.

The Romanian sighs and reminds himself patience is a virtue.

"Because you need to pass." He points out matter of factly.

Nikolai looks away and something in his actions bothers him. It awakens something in Alin, some suspicion he's had for a long time.

"Niko, you do plan on graduating right?" he demands, dark eyes slightly widening as he considers for the first time the possibility the other may not.

The taller teen takes a few seconds too long to reply and in the end he shrugs.

"What's the fucking point. Not like I plan on going to college anyway."

Alin stares at him in shock. Not graduate? Is the other out of his mind?

"The point is that you need an education!" he all but screams, scooping closer to his boyfriend, "What do you plan to do with the rest of your life, huh?"

Once again the Bulgarian remains silent and he looks away, refusing to meet his gaze.

"There are other ways to live by," he mumbles in the end.

Alin isn't stupid and he quickly realizes what the other means. His mind paints the picture for him, the one where the taller teen quickly sinks into a life of crime and abuse. It infuriates him and he's certain he can't let it happen.

"I'm not letting you be a criminal of some sort!" he declares, voice ringing through the empty lab.

Nikolai only sighs, not even bothered by his words,

"Look at Ivan, he didn't graduate and he's doing fine."

"Ivan!? You're giving me him as an example? He's a criminal!"

The taller teen meets his gaze for the first time and sends him a desolate look, as if saying _"And what do you think I am?"_

They stand in silence as Alin's mind races and he struggles to find some words.

"Niko…where is this coming from? I thought you were doing better! Has something happened?"

The Bulgarian merely shrugs, not bothering with an answer and Alin can hardly tolerate the silence between them.

"Look at me! Please, I want to help, Niko." He's not going to cry but his voice still breaks in the middle at that startles the other.

Ivanov finally looks up, as if his sudden our burst of emotions has dragged him out of his trans. He steps in closer, pulls him towards himself.

"No, answer me!" he tries to protest but it's all in vain, his words are drawn out in the warm embrace.

Niko effectively shuts him up, cool lips over his own.

Alin tries to fight against the kiss because he wants and needs answers but fails to. He melts into the contact, responding to the kiss on autopilot.

He wraps his hands around the Bulgarian and for some time they remain like this and he lets his heartbeat calm down. The other pulls away a little, until their foreheads are touching in an unspoken form of intimacy.

It's perfect in small moments like this.

But something at the back of Alin's mind is telling him the secrets they keep will come back to haunt them.

_"_ _You should hear me out before you judge. There is more to Ivan and me and everyone else in this mess then meets the eye."_ Is what Niko doesn't say but he can read it in his gaze.

And when he does share about his past, Alin never interrupts.

 

xxx

 

_The cold weather proves to be an issue in the winter and Nikolai finds his teeth chattering during the night, skinny fingers gripping the thin blanket but never getting enough warmth._

_It's January and it's so damn cold that he can't sleep which for him is something rare. He can hear Radko turn in his bed too but that is no surprise. The Serbian is a horrible sleeper, most often than not spending the night turning around._

_The majority of the time Nikolai sleeps so deep it doesn't bother him but not today. Plus, there are the nightmares._

_He has them sometimes, nightmares of his father dying, of himself getting beaten up or of the other kids in the orphanage ganging up on him. Radko has them too, he knows he does and often too but apparently the Serbian has learnt to control it and not cause much noise._

_Nikolai bites his lip, he can't let this continue, he needs sleep. He remembers the way he slept cuddled against his father with the cat between them during the harsh winter in Bulgaria. He sighs, he has to try this though he doubts Radko will be willing._

_He tiptoes across the room, bare feet almost going numb against the cold floor. He shakes the other's arm gently but there is no need, of course Radko isn't asleep._

_His plan doesn't work out and the brunette promptly kicks him out of the bed after a lengthy line of swears in Serbian._

_Naturally Nikolai understands every word because unfortunately their languages are too close. He bites his lip and wishes they weren't, maybe that way he wouldn't have to deal with him in the first place._

_Neither of them sleeps that night and the Bulgarian spends the next day curled in the only sun spot in the room, trying to get some sleep in the long January afternoon._

_His eyes fall over the sky, it's a pristine shade of blue, no clouds. He briefly wonders what the sky looks like in Sofia that day, what the weather is._

_The small country seems like a different world, a different life, different him._

_Nikolai isn't sure he likes the person he's becoming._

 

_xxx_

 

_After a week of freezing nights Nikolai is taken aback when he feels the bed shift underneath another person's weight. He turns around immediately, scared the Serb might hurt him._

_They stare at each other for a moment too long in the dim room and the other doesn't seem to have much of an explanation. The Bulgarian studies him, taking into account the scars which underneath the moon light seem all the scarier._

_"_ _It's so fucking cold," Radko says in the end, words melting in the sharp, cool air in the space between them._

_Nikolai offers him a small nod and then a tiny smile, "I knew you'd change your mind."_

_Radko rolls his one remaining eye, "Fuck you and turn around,"_

_The Bulgarian weighs in whether or not he should make a joke about how that sounded (they're at that age when making innuendos is the most badass thing a boy can do). In the end though he decides against it and turns around. The other climbs into bed, throwing his cover over them._

_Under the two blankets Nikolai immediately feels warmer and he can sense sleep starting to wash over him. There is some sense of security, a sense of protection and he's amused at how another person's warm body and something as simple as a blanket can provide that._

_He falls asleep immediately and in the morning he finds Radko's limbs tangled around him._

_It makes him smile but then said smile vanishes from his pale face as he realizes that no matter what he does the Serbian hates him and there is no changing that._

 

_xxx_

 

_They do sleep cuddled like that from then on, as if an unspoken agreement has been signed between them._

_Things with other kids get worse as they grow up, taunts and hair pulling turn into brutal fights and more often than not Radko is black and blue._

_Nikolai tries not to fight at first, he tries to stay away from trouble but fails miserably at it._

_At some point he just gives up and he can feel how his own heart begins to lose its warmth, how his mind is morphing into something cold and slippery, how he's starting to lose hope on the world around him but most of all himself._

_Things between him and Radko get worse as well, the Serbian's temper worsens by the hour and not before long they're at each other's throat all day. Sharing one room doesn't help either, if anything it only gives space for more provocation._

_The only time when peace falls between them is during the night when because of the cold they sleep together, cuddled against each other. The nightmares are a routine and there seems to be a code between them to wake each other up, but never offer comfort._

_Nikolai wants comfort with all his heart but he knows the Serbian is capable of none and so soon enough he gives up on that as well._

 

xxx

 

Looking back Alin realizes he should have seen it coming. He almost feels stupid that he didn't. Really, knowing more about the other's past should have only sealed in his suspicions. He should have known the shady business Ivan had would one day spill to the school and drown Niko with it.

And so when he hears screaming in the hallway he realizes it is probably something the Bulgarian would get involved in.

It's Juan that is standing in the hallway, alongside with Radko. And it's blatantly obvious that whatever their chat is about, it's not a friendly one. Alin is surprised the Serb has even bothered come to school since he hasn't seen him in more than a month.

And he doesn't look good – he's a mess more so than usual. Deep, grey circles lay on his face, his dark brown hair is a nest which sticks in all directions and he even has a slight beard going on, an addition to his unkempt appearance.

"We delivered the goods! Pay up the fucking money, man!" the Cuban demands loudly, slamming his fist into one of the lockers.

"Fuck you, I told we don't have the money for now," Radko snaps back.

Alin can feel Nikolai shake his head from next to him. He stares in horror at the Bulgarian as he realizes the other is probably about to jump into the fight any minute,

"No, please, stay out of this," he begs as he clings onto his hand.

The taller teen doesn't even look at him which makes Alin's chest constrict with disappointment and betrayal. His green eyes are instead over their two classmates who are currently shouting profanities at each other.

Naturally it's Radko who throws the first punch but the Cuban fights back and soon enough the entire hall is chanting and making bets who will win. It's a whirlwind of events that makes the Romanian feel light headed and he wants out. Too many memories from home play before his eyes and he hopes with all his heart his boyfriend would for once just walk away.

Nikolai doesn't jump right in, he stares from the sidelines for a few minutes which feel like eras to Alin.

"I thought Ivan was cool, that we could do business. Turns out he's the same fucking piece of shit like all you Eastern European garbage."

And it's then that something in the Bulgarian appears to snap.

Alin doesn't have the time to even pull him back as the other yanks away from him and marches to the Cuban. He swears at him in his mother tongue and hits so hard that Juan falls on the ground.

The entire hall goes quiet for some seconds which stretch to eternity and beyond.

"Don't you dare fucking speak poorly of Ivan ever again you fucking son of a bitch!" Nikolai screams as he pulls back away from the lying boy.

Radko though is not finished. He steps next to Cuban and kicks him even when he is down.

"I'll murder you if fucking do," he adds, pure rage written on his face.

Juan makes his way up barely, leaning heavily on the lockers.

"Go to hell," he swears, not missing a beat.

It only adds fuel to the fire and once again Radko launches at him.

It's only then that Alfred appears out of nowhere and steps in. Alin is shocked to see Ludwig taking action as well. The German holds back the Bulgarian, despite his protests while Alfred grabs on Radko in a death-grip.

"Calm the fuck down!" he demands, shocking everyone as he swears.

"Go fuck yourself!" the Serb shouts at the larger teen as he tries to wiggle out of his bound but to no success, "I swear I'll fucking kill you if you don't let me go, you fat faggot!"

The hall goes quiet once again, shocked at the slur.

"Don't bloody call him that!" Arthur demands as he too steps in but the taller blonde raises a hand for him to relax.

"Mon Dieu," Francis shakes his head as he eyes the situation.

"He is a fucking faggot, why shouldn't call him that?"

Arthur appears as though he's about to lose it when Francis steps before him, a surprising determination written on his face.

"Don't he's not worth it." He asserts, voice as firm as steel when he puts his hands on his best friend's shoulders to stop him.

"Oh, standing up for your boyfriend?" Radko sneers at the Brit, "You're all going burn in fucking hell for being gay!"

_"_ _По дяволите Радко, престани!_ _"_

Alin breaks away from his trans when he hears the Bulgarian's voice and his eyes dart in his direction.

Nikolai still looks pissed off but some of his sense has returned and that offers a tiny dose of relief to him.

"Kill yourselves," the Serb deadpans, always wanting to have the last word.

It's then that the teachers finally appear, followed by security.

 

xxx

 

Nikolai and Radko are dragged down towards the Principle's Office while Juan is taken to Med Bay.

"Please tell me how bloody nice your lad is now, Alin," Arthur hisses as he bumps into him, on his way back to the classroom.

"Enough, Arthur, he feels bad already," Alfred asserts as he pulls the other away.

Feliciano, who has fetched the teachers stays the longest with him in the emptying hall.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen this," he says in the end.

Alin meets his large brown eyes which are filled with compassion. He feels a little better with the other on his side but it still does nothing to erase the disappointment and emptiness in his chest.

"Has this happened before?" he asks in the end.

" _Si_ ," Feliciano admits, not bothering to lie to him, "What you saw…it's not even close to the worst Radko is capable of."

Alin snorts, "And Nikolai?"

The Italian keeps silent for a long time before responding,

"I don't think he's that bad…It's just that…the people you hang around you, they always have their effect. And with him coming from such a family…"

The Romanian only nods. He doesn't need to even hear someone say it, he knows it already.

They head for the principle office in silence. Alin doesn't care that he's missing Physics, that's how much Niko has an effect over him. And for the first time he thinks maybe it's not such a good effect.

"I can wait with you for him if you want to," Feliciano offers as they sit on the bench before the office.

"Thank you," Alin says sheepishly as he turns to the Italian who only nods at him and then his lips stretch into a heartwarming smile.

"Hey, what are friends for?"

The Italian says it as though it's the most natural thing in the world but to the Romanian it's everything and more. He's never had friends, he's never known the feeling of having someone care for you.

It's a warm feeling spreading through his chest like hot chocolate and right now it's the only thing keeping him crying.

Alin tries to listen to whatever is going on in the Principal Office but the only thing he can make out is Radko's booming voice and what sounds like swearing.

Then all of a sudden the door snaps open and out of it come out Niko and Radko.

The Serb all but darts off towards the exit and the Bulgarian isn't far behind. He doesn't even notice Alin, a pensive expression over his face.

"Wait up!" he demands as he takes the other's hand, yanking him to turn around.

Niko does turn but he doesn't meet his eyes. He stares at his old sneakers instead, remaining silent.

The Romanian can hear his own heart slamming against his chest, the sound is deafening.

"I'll go now," Feliciano says quietly as he walks away but then stops and turns around, "If you need anything, text me,"

"Thanks," Alin responds, trying to force a reassuring smile over his face. Both for the Italian and himself.

"What happened?" he inquires the moment he no longer hears Feliciano's retrieving footsteps.

"We're suspended. Two weeks." The Bulgarian admits, trying to keep his voice flat, nonchalant, "Principle said she was doing us a fucking favour by not expelling us."

Alin rubs his temples, weighing in the situation.

"I can tutor you in those two weeks," he points out, trying to offer some damage control, "You won't miss a thing!"

Niko snorts, a bitter and cynical laugh flying past his lips. It sounds harsh and it terrifies Alin as he realizes he may not know the other at all.

"Who says I'm even planning on coming back?"

The Romanian's jaw drops, blood rushing through his veins. For a few long moments he just stares at the other in disbelief, unable to comprehend what he's saying.

"You're thinking of dropping out?" he cries out, unbothered by the way his voice echoes through the school hall, "Where the hell is this even coming from?"

The taller teen doesn't respond, eyes on the cement floor.

"Answer me!" Alin shouts as he shakes the other's shoulder, "You were doing better damn it! What happened?!"

Niko bites his lip, looking him for the first time that afternoon. His lower lip is trembling, as if he's hesitating. The look in his green eyes is lost and it immediately makes the anger in Alin melt away, replacing it with sympathy,

"Please, whatever it is, just tell me," he urges, moving next to him, pressing himself against him, desperate for human contact.

He wants the Bulgarian to run his fingers through his hair, touch him, kiss him. Anything to make sure this is real, that what they've shared in the past months is real and not something his own demented imagination has come up with.

"Ivan has some new ideas for the bar and…" Niko shakes his head, desperation flashing through his eyes, "At least they'll pay well. He says there is no point in me and Radko going to school anymore."

Alin is so appalled by what the other has just said that he doesn't even question Ivan's new bright idea about the business. And he should have, later on he realizes he definitely should have.

"Don't you dare say such things! You need education!"

Niko snorts, indignation written on his face,

"For what? Not like people like me ever amount to anything!"

"Stop saying that!" Alin demands, taking in his hands, "Just please…think this through, you have two weeks to weigh in everything. Don't make a sudden decision."

The Bulgarian doesn't respond, though his fingers lock around his own.

"Promise me you'll at least think about it," Alin presses, words laced with pure fear, "Niko, please!"

The distress in his voice seems to make the other snap out of his own whirlwind of thoughts and meet his gaze. He squeezes his hands, as if in reassurance.

And he kisses him, again. But this time the usual precision and skill in his movements is gone, replaced by sloppiness which stems from need.

Niko's tongue explores his mouth, his hands are all over his torso, quick and desperate. Alin responds to it in a similar manner, he can feel their little world coming crashing down and the only thing he can hold onto is this contact, this small reassurance that the other is still here, that this is real.

But it too ends and the other pulls away and now it looks as if they're just two classmates, never something more.

"Alin…whatever happens I…" he bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood, "I like you so much…I'm just scared of ruining you."

The Romanian wants to laugh at his words…leaving someone because you're scared of hurting them and then hurting them even more so in the process is the oldest cliché in the book. But he can't laugh right now, he's scared out of his mind that the only person he feels close to, really close to, in the world is slowly slipping away.

"I'm not the angel you see me as," he tries to joke but the other doesn't buy it.

"Please let me help," he adds when there is no answer.

Niko meets his eyes and for a second there is a change in them, the desperation melts away and is replaced by a small flicker of hope somewhere in the depths of green.

And then,

"He doesn't need your help,"

The voice is gruff and familiar and it makes dread wash over Alin. It takes a second to tie it to his owner but when he looks up, all he sees are Ivan's sharp blue eyes.

The moment they shared is gone, washed away like a drawing on the sand. No evidence of it left. Nikolai is already on his feet and he only casts one small, apologetic glance in his direction.

It makes Alin's blood boil.

"Radko called, told me about you shenanigans. Don't worry I'll deal with Juan," the Russian explains quickly, anger poking from his words.

Alin looks at Nikolai and he can momentarily see the switch in him, how he changes around the other. His eyes are now sharper, almost empty. It's the first time the Romanian muses how cold light eyes are, despite their beauty.

"You're not hurt are you?" Ivan asks, concern in his voice as he pets the Bulgarian, as if searching for injuries.

" _Не_ ," Niko assures and he's already forcing a smile over his lips.

" _Отлично!_ Now we should go and have a drink!" he exclaims, childish joy pouring from his voice.

The Bulgarian nods, eyes full of gratitude and respect at the sight of the Russian. Alin isn't jealous as he realizes this isn't lust. Niko isn't in love with Ivan, no they share something else. They're family.

"Oh, Alin, if you want you can come too?" Ivan offers from behind his shoulder and the Romanian doesn't miss the challenge, the mocking in his light irises.

It's as if saying he has won, Nikolai is his.

"No, thanks," he asserts, surprised at the strength behind his own voice.

"Well then, _до свидания_ ," the blonde chuckles, "I'm sure Niko can teach you a little Bulgarian and Russian some _other time_ , isn't that right?"

Niko only nods and then flashes a tiny smile for Alin, "Bye."

 

xxx

 

The Romanian stares after him, anger mixed in with a heavy emptiness in his chest.

His mind plays on repeat what Francis muttered to him as they passed ways after the fight,

"I'm sorry…you just can't save some people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wonder why Niko is acting like this around Ivan, trust me he has good reason to. It will all be explained in the next portion of flashbacks. And for those wonder – no, they didn't break up.
> 
> So what did you think of the fight? Do you believe Alin and Niko will things out or our favourite trouble maker too far gone in his ways? Were you surprised at his aggression?
> 
> Also doesn't Feliciano seems like the most comforting person in the world and Ivan – the perfect cockblock for our fave couple xD?
> 
> Translations: До свидания = Goodbye, Отлично! = Excellent (Rus and Bg)
> 
> P.S: If you think this chapter was emotionally draining…man, I don't know what to tell you about the next one.
> 
> Please review and share your opinion on this chapter! ^^


	13. The Thing About Relationships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big apologies for missing an update but it was exam season and I studied in the last minute as per usual xD! If you're having exams - I wish you all to pass and have great grades!

 

**The Thing About Relationships**

 

As Alin learns the hard way, relationships aren't always fun.

Ever since the Bulgarian was suspended, he hasn't seen him from him and has had to put up with cryptic messages and the occasional dumb memes he keeps sending. The Romanian has left him a dozen questions, which remain without an answer.

He's frustrated to no end but the worst part of it is, he's not even surprised. A tiny voice in his head keeps telling him he should have expected it all along. After all he knew what he was getting into, he knew Nikolai spoke of trouble and it was perhaps what had drawn to him in the first place.

Plus…his own self-doubt and insecurity kept showing their ugly head, telling him it was his fault, he should have protected the Bulgarian, should have helped him more. His imagination is a dark place, painting various scenes each day.

Nikolai and Ivan and whatever they are currently doing. Alin isn't jealous but he is worried, the influence of the Russian has always seemed destructive.

He can only hope he doesn't hear from the police. He will like it much better to hear from his own boyfriend but apparently even that is too much to ask for.

 

**xxx**

 

Alin tries to distract himself, he goes out more, much to the pleasant surprise of his mother.

He finds himself in Sadiq'a café again, seated in between Ludwig and Francis. Feliciano is perched in the German's lap, tan face snuggled against his broad chest. They look like the epitome of intimacy even when they're not doing anything remotely sexual and it makes Alin's chest sink with a bittersweet feeling.

He's happy about the Italian who's quickly turned into the closest he has of a friend, and he's proud of Ludwig who seems to have become much less tense, more warm and openly caring for other's as his relationship with Feliciano progresses.

But…his mind can't stop asking why can't he have that.

"So, Alin, you've broken up with Nikolai yet?"

It's Arthur that asks, it's always Arthur.

Alin can sense the cold green eyes over himself, they're stern, they dig into him, searching for answers. He wants to shift away from the other.

"Oh, please they weren't a couple to begin with," Lovina rolls her eyes to which the Romanian doesn't protest, after all he doesn't want Niko to get into trouble, so he has to hide their relationship.

"Well, I hope whatever you were, you no longer are," the Brit presses on, squinting his eyes as he sips on his tea.

"I gotta agree with Iggy here," Alfred admits, scratching the back of his head, "What he did last Thursday…I know it was mainly Radko's fault but damn Nikolai is fucking crazy as well."

Alin looks away, he doesn't want to talk about it. He's been trying to forget the school fight, the way the Bulgarian looked savage, the way he was ready to fight all in the name of defending Ivan.

"Radko still going to your school?"

It's new voice, one the Romanian recognizes as vaguely familiar before he turns around and spots Elira, who's holding onto a tray full of warm beverages.

The usually happy look is gone from her tan face, which is now locked in worry. Alin's mind flies back to what Alfred told him, the way the Serb had tried to forced himself on her.

"Yeah," Francis responds, voice gentle and soothing, "But we promise you he's not going to hurt you,"

The Kosovar girl nods, trying to smile in spite of herself,

"Sadiq and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for us," she admits, genuine gratitude flashing behind her black eyes, "When we first got to the USA we were so worried everyone would hate us cause we're Muslim and what not…"

The words hang awkwardly in the air and Alin can't shake off their weight, their implications. Politics is something he doesn't think about, something like a parallel world, one he doesn't delve into, too focused on his own little life.

But…Elira doesn't have a choice, she can't escape the stigma that follows her every step she takes.

He finds himself angry at himself for worrying about stupid things and angry at Nikolai for not even bothering to call. He wonders – is the other busy hanging out with Radko while he has to listen about what the Serb has done to this poor girl?

"Don't worry, you can always count on me the superhero Alfred!" the American declares, striking a pose.

It's silly and overdramatic and it makes Arthur roll his eyes but Elira appreciates it as she smiles once again. Sometimes Alin wonders if perhaps Alfred does all the theatrics in the name of making others laugh.

Whatever his reasoning is, it works and the tension dissipates in the air as if it was never to begin with.

"I won't," she assures with a small nod, "You guys are the only reason I don't have to worry. Ivan would have otherwise made sure Radko had his way with me."

Alin shudders at the words, they're bleak and cynical, standing starkly at odds with Elira's sunny disposition. He has to wonder how far the Serb has gone, how much he's hurt her before Alfred and Arthur could stop him.

And as much as he doesn't want to think about it, it makes him wonder how Nikolai can stand to be near him and the person who protects him.

 

**xxx**

 

The next day they take a walk down the park, enjoying the mild weather in early December. Alin tries to push the thoughts of Niko away, tries to focus on his classmates but finds it impossible.

At some point he lags behind, hearing the cheerful voice of Feliciano and Antonio somewhere ahead, followed by some idle threats from Lovina and Ludwig's warning for them not to get cold.

The Romanian doesn't mind them running ahead and he doubts they'll miss him much. Still, he can't help but feel empty the moment the others are out of his sight.

"Cheer up, mon ami," he hears the familiar gentle voice, words slightly accented in that charming French way.

He looks up to see Francis who's stretching out a hand, offering him a cup of hot chocolate.

"Figured out it would cheer you up," the blonde shrugs as Alin takes it, stammering to thank him.

"It's nothing,"

A warm feeling spreads through his chest, for him it's a lot more than nothing. Having friends is something new and fresh and it as sweet as the hot chocolate.

"You're really thoughtful," he admits, meeting the French's sky blue eyes.

Francis looks away, surprisingly uncomfortable from the long stare,

"Haha, you should tell that to everyone else," he says, words lighthearted but still bearing the edge of bitterness.

Alin wants to say something, offer comfort as he remembers the last conversation they had alone. But there is nothing to say, the situation sucks and he has no way of fixing it.

It's not like he can make Arthur love him back. Francis seems to notice his worry so he flashes a bright smile and waves a hand.

"Sometimes I just sound overdramatic, don't mind me," he assures, forcing a small chuckle as they head for the nearest bench.

"Shouldn't we call the others?" Alin asks sheepishly, looking in the distance to spot the rest of the gang.

"Don't worry, they won't even notice we're gone," the blonde replies, sitting down.

Popescu follows his example and they sit next to each other, submerged in silence for a few brief moments. It's heavy and uncomfortable and he fidgets with his fingers until Francis put his hand over them.

Alin stares at him, pulling away his hand on instinct.

"Sorry," the taller teen apologizes immediately, "You just looked…anxious, I was trying to calm you down."

"It's okay I just…I'm not used to much touching." He assures, trying to offer the other a smile.

Francis doesn't seem to buy it, he looks away, a look of guilt plastered over his face.

"I wasn't trying to…make an advance or something," he presses on, "I know the kind of reputation I have, so you probably think that I uh-fuck,"

"Francis!" Alin half cries out, effectively drawing his attention, "Relax. I know you're not a bad guy."

The French stares at him for a good half minute and then slowly nods, a look of appreciation painted behind the sky blue irises.

"That…means a lot. Arthur keeps making these jokes you know…about me being a rapist or something and uh-" he chuckles, the sound mirthless, "I always shrug it off but it hurts."

The Romanian studies him, taking in the angst written over his handsome face. Before he has the time to hesitate, he puts up a hand, landing it on his shoulder and offering a gentle squeeze.

"Maybe you should tell him that," he advices, "He might be an ass but you're his best friend and you deserve him to treat you right."

Francis meets his eyes, holds his gaze, perhaps for a few seconds too long. Alin feels like this beginning of a friendship and he's more than ready to welcome it.

"Thank you, I…really needed to hear that,' the blonde admits as he leans in against the bench.

They sink in silence once more but this time it's a little less tedious and he even tries to enjoy the winter afternoon, detaching himself from the usual thoughts about the green eyed Bulgarian.

"Now it's your turn," Francis urges at some point, leaning in closer to him.

"For what?"

"Oh, come on, I told you about Arthur now you get to tell me all about Nikolai," the taller teen presses on, "And don't give me that look cause I can tell you're more than friends."

Alin hesitates for a moment and then something inside him snaps and he knows there is no coming back.

The words start pouring on their own and he tells him everything – every little detail about him and Nikolai, about what they've done, about how much the other hurts him each time he leaves.

He doesn't spare things and he's not nice with what he says. There are times when he straight out wants to swear at the Bulgarian, at how damn difficult he is, how he always feels hanging in the balance with him.

And Francis listens, taking in every word. In the end for the first instance in a long time Alin feels a little more lighthearted.

 

**xxx**

 

The next day Alin is in a great mood, his mind finally clear.

He decides to take another stroll in the park as it has brought him happiness and clarity and he seems to be lacking both of them these days. He vaguely muses how the park is pretty near Ivan's bar but then shakes, his head there's no way he could run into the Nikolai.

Except he does.

When he sees the Bulgarian's back in the distance, he acts purely on instinct, his legs taking him to the taller teen on their own. The moment he's near him all the bitterness and anger is gone and he's just insanely relieved to see the other.

Honestly, that's just the effect he has on him. He can be pissed off at him one minute and then the second he spots the familiar green eyes it's all gone in a flash.

"Hey!" he greats with a trained smile which doesn't have even a trace of all the angst he's been through.

"You haven't called in like…ages!" he adds with a small pout, still careful not to anger him. The fear he has of pushing people away is something that is always at the back of his mind.

Nikolai shrugs nonchantly, as if Alin is the most uninteresting person in the world.

"Battery died." he says in a flat voice.

Alin recognizes that voice all too well – it's the same voice he uses when he talks with teachers and kids from school. It's nothing like his normal tone which gives away his emotions right away.

"Well, someone's in a cranky mood today." he teases, "What's the matter, Niko, that time of the month?"

The Bulgarian cringes at the nickname which he deems silly but otherwise keeps quiet. They walk down the park in silence for a few brief minutes. Nikolai has shoved his hands in his pockets, an unrecognizable look written on his face.

It's starting to bug Alin – he hates it when the other is one of his "I hate the world, leave me alone" moods. He decides to make use of the bad mood, however, only to annoy the other even more. Serves him right for everything he has put him through with his lack of basic communication.

"So, what are we doing today?" he inquires in the sweetest tone he can come up with. If anyone could see them from the side, they would think that they were a couple – something that, as he knows, bothers Nikolai to the world's end and well beyond.

"I have work to do. You can do whatever the fuck you want, not like me to care." he grunts and the frown on his face deepens.

Alin cocks a brown eyebrow, taken aback by how harsh the other is. Whatever is bothering him, it must be serious because even when they first met the other wasn't this mean.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" he asks, surprising even himself as he swears.

"Oh, wow, now you even sound like them." Nikolai mumbles under his breath but still loud enough for the Romanian to hear.

"Who on Earth are you talking about? You're not even making sense!" Alin demands because he honestly has no idea what this is all about. All of a sudden the other has transformed into a drama queen and it seems out of character even for him. He gets Bulgarians like to dramatize but this is a little too much.

"Who am I talking about? Oh, come on, Alin," the taller teen mimics, "You know I'm talking about Francis! I saw you two yesterday! You were fucking holding hands and some shit!"

Alin is taken aback by the anger in the Bulgarian's voice. Then, however, another idea pops up into his head. What if this wasn't anger at all? The idea makes him feel almost dizzy with satisfaction.

"You jealous or something?" he coos, wrapping his hand around the Bulgarian as if the other is okay with others seeing them.

"Jealous?" Nikolai spats, shoving him away so hard he nearly trips over, "In your fucking dreams, you're delusional!"

The smirk Alin doesn't even realize he has on his face slips. There is nothing but anger and disgust in the other's voice and it makes him want to run away.

"Niko, calm down, I didn't even do anything with Francis! He doesn't like me like that in the first place!" he tries to argue but the other is so angry at this point, he doesn't even hear him.

"Why would I ever be fucking jealous of you? You can go do whatever you want with him or the other stickups and I won't even bat an eye." the Bulgarian is screaming at this point, making more than a few bypassers stare at them as if they are part of some sort of play.

Alin doesn't even want to look at Nikolai at this point, so he settles to look at his expensive, perfectly clean and shiny dress shoes. They contrast against the other's torn sneakers, just like their personalities.

For a brief second a nasty thought sneaks up into the Romanian's head – what if he was better than the other indeed? What if Arthur is right? Should he just give up on the other?

Maybe this…all this fighting isn't worth it.

"Yeah, you are jealous." Alin says, the anger rising in him, "You're jealous cause I have friends and people who like me for who I am and all you have is that mental Russian, bossing you around!"

"They like you for who you are?!" the Bulgarian mocks and breaks into a forced laugh, "Oh, don't tell you're actually dumb enough to believe that shit! They only like you cause you're someone new and you have money! That is all those shallow fucks care about!"

Alin stares at him, unable to respond. The harsh words make his throat tighten – this can't be true, right? He wants the others to be his friends so much and to figure out they only like him for his money? No, this can't possible be the reason why.

Only…it's too bad that the other's words mirror his own insecurities.  
What if the guys truly don't care about him?

"Liar!" he screams at the Bulgarian, "They like me for who I am, not my money! Like I said you're just jealous of me because I have friends while you surround yourself with psychopaths."

Niko looks utterly taken aback by the statement, it's the first time Alin has allowed himself to criticize the others,

"Don't you dare say such things about my family!" he seethes, glaring at him as he steps a step closer,

"Well what do you want me to call them, huh?" the Romanian screams, all the pent up fury and disappointment in the other finally coming to the surface, "Radko almost fucking raped Elira, calling him a psychopath is well deserved!"

Ivanov's green eyes widen in horror and for a few brief seconds he seems unable to speak.

"I'm not defending Radko in any way, I know he's fucking monster!

"Really!? And what would you do if he had done it? If Alfred and Arthur weren't there?"

"I would have kicked his ass," Nikolai asserts, voice so firm it sends goose bumps down Alin's spine,

"And I _did_ kick his ass for what he tried to do. It's part of the reason why he hates me so much, he expected me to take his side and thinks I betrayed him."

The Romanian takes in the information, it soothes a fraction of his anger. Well, at the very least the other realizes how much the Serb has fucked up,

"Why did he expect you to take his side?" he asks, voice small.

Nikolai looks away, shaking his head, as if he can't understand. It pisses him off, he's tired of the other constantly keeping him outside and him beginning for an entrance.

"Because we're family in the end of the day. And Ivan did protect him, like he always protects us. Elira didn't file a report because she knew he'd wreak havoc on the café and maybe even her family."

"Protected him?" Alin half cries out, "Niko, this isn't fucking protecting him! By defending him Ivan only made sure he can try this shit again!"

"He won't!" Nikolai argues, "We…we'll make sure he won't."

"Oh you will make sure? Really? How is Ivan any fucking different from him? He's a damn criminal!"

"And what do you think I am, Alin?!" at this point the Bulgarian is screaming, "You think I go around planting flowers or some shit?"

Alin falls silent, there is nothing for him to say. He has always known, everyone has told him to stay away. And yet he didn't, he kept pushing in, hoping he could save the other.

Worst part is…he still believes he can.

"You have to leave Ivan and the others," he asserts, not backing down for once, "I know you think they care about you but they don't. All they care about is making money of you in whatever mess you are in!"

" _Не, не_ ," Nikolai begins, shaking his head, "You don't know what the fuck you're saying. They do care about me. Ivan…he has always been there for me,"

"Niko, listen to me! He doesn't give a fuck about you, you just want to pretend he does cause you miss your parents and they're gone and-"

He can't continue as Nikolai grabs his shirt and raises his hand to punch him. Alin prepares for the hit, squinting his eyes. He can already hear the sympathetic comments of his classmates.

But the blow never comes and when he opens his eyes, cautiously all he sees is the familiar green orbs staring at him.

For a second he notes how beautiful his eyes are but then the expression behind them makes him forget everything else. There is no longer anger in them, only sadness and the unmistakable disappointment and betrayal.

Alin suddenly feels a wave of guilt and shame wash over him. He should have never said that. Anything but that.

"I was wrong about you. You are just like them and everyone else in this horrible country." the Bulgarian says and his voice is flat, completely derived of emotion.

Alin honestly preferred it when he was screaming.

"What am I to you? Some poor boy you need to save to make yourself feel better?"

The Romanian gulps he can't think of an answer to that. He wants to tell the other how much he loves him but the words die on his lips, heart slamming against his chest.

Nikolai chuckles but there is no amusement behind it. This mirthless laughter sounds very familiar and he quickly ties it to Ivan. It's remarkable how much the two are alike.

"I was just some fucking experiment to you, a toy to play with till you get tired. Then you throw me away and take a new one." the brunette finishes and it looks as if he is going to walk away.

Alin does not want the other to leave, he hates not having the last word but he also can't think of anything to say.

"You weren't a fucking toy, Nikolai." he manages to respond weakly.

Nikolai turns to face him and their eyes lock.

"At least be a man enough and not lie to me!" the Bulgarian rises his voice once again.

"What are you talking about?" Alin asks, incredulous. None of this makes sense and he can't find a reason why the other would act in such a way.

"I heard you yesterday." Nikolai admits, voice barely above a whisper.

Alin finally understands but he wishes he didn't.

"I heard how you told Francis about us…even when I begged you not to tell anyone. I…I knew I was asking for a lot but damn I didn't think you'd tell fucking Francis about it!"

The Romanian keeps quiet, he can't respond to this. He can feel his cheeks heat up and he has never been so guilty and ashamed.

"You can't even fucking defend yourself, what is left for someone else?" the Bulgarian challenges, looking at him and expecting from him to say something but the only answer he gets is more silent.

"And yeah, I heard all about how difficult I am to deal with. How you wish that…what was it? Oh, yeah that I was _normal_ like you."

The words are cruel but Alin can't really deny anything. It is all true – there are times when Nikolai is too much, too intense. He himself is not that strong, he has his own demons to fight and he needs a little bit of saving. Only he's too afraid to ask for it.

"I just… I really though, fuck man, I thought you liked me as I am. Not as the version you wanted out of me." the words make the Romanian snap out of the pity party he is throwing for himself and look at the other.

"I do like you the you are," he tries to argue but at this point the other is done listening.

He can't handle the betrayal in the green eyes, so he looks away, focusing on anything else.

"Ivan is right – I can't be with someone like you," he shakes his head sadly and Alin can't help but feel his throat clench,

"In the end I was so stupid to think someone could actually care about me. Ivan was right all along, we can only count on each other."

With that Nikolai turns around and walks away and Alin wants to call for him or run after him or at least say something cheesy like in the movies and not stand in the middle of the street like an idiot but he can't.

He feels frozen and once the other is out of view he turns around, numb.

The thing about relationships is, they always end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what is a high school romance without some drama? What did you think on the chapter – Alin finally snapping like that? Before you hate him bear in mind that he will have issues of his own that Niko will find out about.
> 
> And Francis – he deserves all the hugs in the world! Hope you enjoyed the friendship between him and Alin!
> 
> Last but not least – how do you think our favourites will get back together? Or (insert evil smirk here)...will they?
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	14. Yogurt

 

_**Yogurt** _

 

Alin spends the next days trying to convince himself he doesn't need like or even know Nikolai. His free time consists mainly of endless scrolling through the Internet and leisurely talking to his classmates whose friendship seems like the only bright ray of sunshine in his life right now.

But the thing is, for whatever reason, reading vampire FanFiction online (guilty pleasure, don't judge) and listening to Feliciano's constant chatter about pasta and how cute Germany is in blue ( _It compliments his eyes, si?_ ), is simply not the same without the Bulgarian always lurking in the corner, smirk ever present on his pale face.

As the days pass, Alin finds himself more and more bored and exasperated. It is only the third day without the green eyed boy and yet it already feels like it was another life time when the two of them were together.

His mother catches on this and starts to give him "the looks". The Romanian can swear all mothers have a universal way of giving you one of those looks. He quickly starts feeling guilty for making her worry because after all this is beyond stupid. Why would he even care if his stupid classmate is mad at him? He is so above all of this. _Not._

"Is everything alright?" his mother finally questions, looking up from a delicious plate of _sarmale_ she has prepared for him and breaking him away from his little introspection.

He should have known having his favourite dish for dinner was some sort of trap.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?" he assures, giving her the brightest smile he can offer at the moment.

Of course it doesn't work and she sees right through his façade, it's what mothers across the world do.

"You've been acting all gloomy the last few days. You seemed so happy at first when we got here and I was really glad but now…" she pauses, sending him a tiny, unsure smile, as if searching for the proper words, "I know something is bothering you so just please tell what it is honey."

"I told you, everything is fine, mum." Alin responds in a haste, the answer rehearsed throughout the years.

But of course she isn't buying it and offers an exasperated sigh.

"Even Sorina is starting to notice."

The teen looks up from the table, mortified. Great, now not only is he worrying his mother over nothing but also his little sister. He feels like the worst son _and_ older brother which should be noted as some sort of new record in terms of messing up.

Add to that list worst boyfriend of the century and his failure is complete.

As a whole, there are many things he regrets but one of the most biggest is how little effort he's put for his relationship with his sister. Sorina is a great kid and yet they're not close. Being the drama queen he was, he always made sure she wouldn't bother him.

Alin remembers the countless occasions he would come back from school in a bad mood after some assholes would yet again remind him that being different isn't necessarily a good thing. His little sister would spot it right away and would run up to him, wrapping tiny fingers around his knees in a vain attempt of comfort.

 _"_ _Why is big brother always so sad?"_ she'd ask him, large hazel eyes full of innocence and genuine concern.

But comfort was out of her reach and she couldn't help him as much as she tried in her childish ways. He saw her as little more than an annoying brat he happened to share DNA with. Now as the memories flash before his eyes, Alin bites his lip, already feeling regret bubbled up his chest.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to her, tell her everything is fine." he replies, opting for a reassuring smile and a proper look.

"I'm not worried about her Alin but you. What's going on? You seemed content just a few days ago." His mother questions, plea evident in her soft voice.

The boy sighs, exasperated.

"Everything is fine, I have made some friends, some of them are pretty nice, others not so much but still…" he pauses, not sure how to continue. He feels ridiculous for making such a big fuss about one idiot.

One very hot, interesting, smart, kind and adorable idiot he loves but still.

The silence in the spacious room is deafening and at some point the worry behind his mother's dark brown eyes is more than he can bear.

"Um, well, Nikolai and I had a fight." he mutters in defeat but she doesn't look one bit surprised and only raises a devious eyebrow, as if she has known all along because mothers are smart just like that and make the best detectives in the world.

"I thought it would be something like this." she muses as offers him an understanding smile, "Was it serious?"

"Yeah…I mean we started screaming at each other in the middle of the park and swearing and what not…it got pretty out of hand."

She nods, waiting for him to share more.

"And the worst thing is now I feel as if it was all my fault because he overheard me telling Francis about us even though he begged me not to," Alin admits, "Plus…I might have said some pretty mean stuff."

Once he has starts sharing he can't stop himself, words pouring out of his mouth as if they have a life of their own. Relief washes over him when he's finally able to talk about the mess he has got himself into.

"What kind of things?" his mother has a scornful expression and Alin knows she won't like it. Still, it's not like he can hide anything from her, even if wanted to which at this point he does not.

"Well…he's not exactly the easiest person in the world to deal with and…I know he's had a rough childhood and what not but…that can't always be his excuse."

Alin pauses, biting his lip. He can already see the lecture she is about to present once she hears this.

"The people he is closest to, his family is absolutely horrible. This Radko guy almost raped a girl and Ivan is playing some sort of criminal master mind…Oh, and did I mention they're homophobes?"

The teen expects his mother to scorn him but he is met only by silence. He can't really look at her and he can feel his cheeks flush.

"Hence why…Nikolai and I have to hide like some sort of thugs, like what we're doing is wrong."

"It's not," his mother assures, a gentle look painted on her face.

Alin nods, slowly taking in her support. It seems as though she has always known he was gay, perhaps before he even told her a few years ago. And when it came to Nikolai…one look at their rare pictures together was all it took for her to figure it out.

"I told him Ivan doesn't care about him and in my anger I even told him he was just jealous of me cause I have a loving family and…I-I shouldn't have said any of that." he admits, voice rich with regret.

The Romanian feels as if he is eleven all over again, coming home with a shining blue and purple bruise over his left eye and a torn T-shirt because some asshole has decided to express his pent up anger over him. It's embarrassing and pathetic and he feels sorry that his mother has to put with it because really, she deserves something better.

Alin can sense the familiar feeling of self-hatred peeking at the corners of his brain, just waiting to jump in on him and bite him in the ass.

His mother sighs, giving him a look that incorporates understanding and a tiny little bit of disappointment.

"Alin, what you said wasn't right but I can understand why you did." She points out, her tone soothing, "Things haven't been easy for you either and it's only human that you snap from time to time."

The boy buries his head in his hands, because he knows better than anyone how hard it sometimes is to battle the demons which lurk at the back of his mind and make sure to keep him trapped. However, that doesn't wash away the guilt after they get out.

"I agree you shouldn't have said those things to Nikolai…we can't even imagine how hard it must have been for him to lose both parents and to be forced to live with people who hate him for his sexuality…"

"Yeah…but I just…I didn't even think at that moment. I didn't think Nikolai could hear me when I talked to Francis and then he confronted me about it and-…"

He can't finish because reality slaps him in the face and he doesn't like the concept of the Bulgarian being out of his life at all.

"During the fight, I wanted to be there for him, to apologize for telling Francis but I just...I couldn't, not this time."

His mother walks up to him, running a hand through his hair before patting him on the shoulder.

"Alin, you have to stop putting yourself down and step up to your actions." She begins, voice gentle but firm, "This wallowing in self pity isn't going to help you…or Nikolai."

 _"_ _I know…"_

"I've seen how you look at him, the way your mood lifts when you've spent a day with him and trust me that is not something you want to lose."

 _"_ _Yeah..."_

His mother pauses, unsure how to continue, how to phrase her next question.

"Alin…do you like Nikolai?" she intrigues in the end, plopping in the chair next to him while the boy still refuses to meet her gaze, head buried in his arms, "Like really, really like him? Maybe even love?"

Alin doesn't reply right away and that already gives her the answer she's looking for.

"I do." He whispers in the end, still not bothering to look up, "But I have no chance. He's never going to change."

His mother cocks an eyebrow, "And how can you be so certain?"

Alin finally looks up before scoffing, "Mum, I just am."

"A year ago did you think you would be doing all the things you are now?" she inquires, lifting her brows.

"Well…no. But I mean…him changing and loving me is impossible at this point."

His mother lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head,

"Remember what grandpa always says about impossible?"

"That it's only impossible until someone does it and then it's the most natural thing in the world," he responds, mimicking his grandpa's tone which makes them both laugh and the light sound momentarily dispels the tension.

But Alin looks away, refusing to allow himself to hope when he knows he's probably in for disappointment, after all the prospect of someone loving him is foreign and borderline laughable.

"You can never know what he might do unless you try to apologize and help him." His mother goes on, running her fingers through his dyed hair, "You know you can both count on my support, right?"

Alin nods, "Thank you. You're the best mum in the world,"

She leans in, kissing him at the top of his head.

"Not to even mention you two had a sleepover, with cuddling at all." she insists, devious smirk on her lips, "That makes me think he might be willing to change after all,"

"Oh, come on, mum, we were both dressed!" he cries out, a deep blush covering his cheeks.

"Look, Alin, I'm not saying Nikolai's is going to be the love of your life, maybe he is, maybe he isn't but you have to try to make things work out or else you'll regret this for the rest of your life."

The teen doesn't respond right away, trying to take in the advice and muse over it. In the end of the day he knows his mother's right, he knows giving up on Nikolai is not an option, regardless of how much of stubborn assholes they both are.

In the end he sighs in defeat, "I know. Now I just have to think of a way to bring him back…hey, do you know where they sell yogurt?"

 

**xxx**

 

Alin buys copious amount of yogurt the next morning to the point where a few customers send him weirded glances. He takes one from every brand and stuffs him into his backpack before returning to his home and heading school.

He has a plan, you see. The plan is to somehow get the Bulgarian to forgive him and yogurt is one of the things he knows for a fact the other loves.

When he reaches school his eyes scan for Nikolai, searching for pale skin and brown hair or intense green eyes even though he knows the other is still suspended.

So far his idea is to go to the park nearby his bar and hope the other magically appears out of nowhere, much like the in the movies. It's not the best plan, maybe it's not even a good plan but at this point it's all he's got.

He plops onto his desk, a forlorn expression over his face.

Feliciano is absent and he hears something about an art tournament he's participating in. Ludwig is missing as well and Alin's lips curve into a knowing smirk when he puts two and two together. He can't help but swoon a little at the thought of Ludwig (the stoic German, the perfectionist, the straight A student) skipping classes in the name of his Italian boyfriend.

The happiness for Feliciano is soon replaced with jealousy as Alin realizes he doesn't have that and if anything Nikolai either hates him at this point, wants to do nothing with him or he never did. He bites his bottom lip, trying to shoo away the thought and focus on his plan which has to work.

After classes he heads for the park when suddenly he hears screaming his name and turns around, mouth agape when he sees the person calling him.

Radko of all people is standing next to him, scarred face baring an angry expression. He's panting for breath which seems odd having in mind the Serbian is supposed to be all though and what not.

The Romanian raises an eyebrow at him, it is after all extremely rare for the other to come to school, let alone when he is suspended.

"The fuck are you looking at you creepy shit?" Radko grumbles, sending a death glare at Alin.

The shorter teen stiffens at the words but chooses to ignore them; seeing the other as an opportunity to find out what's going on with his boyfriend.

"Have you seen Niko?" he blurts out and the brunette scoffs at his words, apparently becoming more agitated.

"Don't call him that faggy-ass name," he demands, never failing to surprise Alin with all the stupid things he gets angry about.

"Fine, have you seen Nikolai?"

"Yes, of course, we fucking live together." The Serbian sneers, taking in pleasure of bullying Alin.

The Romanian takes a long look at him. He doesn't look good. There are bags under his one good eye, his hair is longer and now a mess. Dark, greasy strands fall over his forehead. His rubs his hands together, as if they're sweating.

"That's not what I asked," Alin points out through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to remain calm with the other, "What is he up to?"

Radko's lips curve into an animalistic grin at the question and the Romanian shivers, the other looks sadistic.

"Nothing much," The Serbian muses before adding,

"Oh, except he got shot."

Alin's entire mind goes blank upon hearing the words, eyes widening almost comically, if it weren't for the dire situation.

"He WHAT!?" he cries out, not bothering to acknowledge the Math teacher who passes by, giving him a weirded out look.

"He got shot," Radko repeats, drawing out the words and taking immense pleasure in torturing the Romanian.

Alin feels as though the whole world has hit an abrupt pause and suddenly it is quiet, almost as if someone has pushed some imaginary mute button over the school yard.

"Is-is he dead?" Alin stammers, feeling out of breath suddenly to which the Serbian only breaks into a forced, almost menacing laughter.

"Fucking answer me!" Popescu demands, surprising people around and himself with his sudden outburst.

"No," Radko retorts simply once he's done laughing and Alin releases a breath he hasn't realized he was holding,

"I swear you're such a fucking crybaby." The Serbian grumbles, "A real disgrace for men and your country."

Alin pretends not to hear him, he has no time or interest in the other's peculiar brand of politicized bullshit.

"We have to go and see him," he points out, completely uncaring about his surroundings at this point.

Francis walks by him and raises an eyebrow but Alin pointedly ignores him, he'll explain things later. Hopefully, when he knows the Bulgarian is okay. And alive.

"Uh, why do you think I'm here?" Radko demands, voice as rough as always.

Alin shrugs, unable to think of a witty response at the moment.

"Cause my dear brother Nikolai wanted it," the Serbian mocks, voice laced with disgust, "Cause you know every time he wants something, Ivan caves in."

"What are you talking about?" Alin inquires, unable to follow the other's hectic thinking.

The brunette waves a hand as if to indicate he's stupid for not understanding but continues still,

"Nikolai likes the Math teacher cause she's nice to him and so he didn't want to miss classes."

Alim stares at him, taking a few long minutes to let the words sink in. It makes sense since after all Math is the only subject the Bulgarian isn't epically failing, as peculiar as that is. Perhaps it's because it doesn't require much proficiency in English.

"Ivan forced me to come and take the notes from someone, even if had to kick their ass for it." Radko concludes in a flat tone, "I figured you were the easiest target."

And then it hits him, the sudden realization that the Bulgarian no longer considers him a friend. He could have easily asked him for the lectures but instead he's asked Radko, the guy who loathes him.

The Romanian gulps, feeling equally horrified by the prospect of not seeing the green eyed teen or seeing him only to find out the other wants nothing to do with him.

"We'll go see him and I'll give him my notes," he states, voice surprisingly firm while Radko merely huffs in response.

Regret washes over him and threatens to drawn him as he realizes the extent of his mistake. The very thought of Nikolai being injured terrifies him, leaves him without air and almost makes him want to scream. The Bulgarian is the person he cares most about next to his mother and sister and he has thrown that all away in one moment of anger.

Nikolai matters.

Alin silently promises himself he'll do anything to get him back. An alarming image of the Bulgarian covered in blood and pale, too pale, crosses his mind and he rubs his eyes, trying to push it away.

 

**xxx**

 

Radko leads the way to their house in large, quick strides. Alin is surprised at the energy he has considering he looks like absolute shit.

The Serbian doesn't bother talk to him and he doesn't feel as though he's missing anything. He's better off without the other's hurtful insults the other hurls at everyone.

When they finally stop Alin looks up only to see a decrepit old house nearby the same park where they fought and just a block away from Ivan's horrible bar. The house is old and looks as though it's falling apart and he can feel sympathy bubble up his chest.

Radko pauses before the door, going through his pockets for a key. Once he takes it out, his hands are shaking and he drops it,

"Fuck!" he swears loudly before bending to pick it up. He scratches his hands feverishly and takes a deep breath before finally being able to unlock the door.

Alin is taken aback by his strange behaviour, it reminds him of something but he's not quite sure of what. There's a sneaking suspicion at the back of his mind but he hopes he's wrong.

Whatever it is, he quickly forgets it, mind entirely preoccupied with the Bulgarian.

The interior of the house isn't much better than the exterior. The walls are an off yellow colour which he can only imagine was once white. The furniture is old and falling apart, it looks like something taken straight out of a Soviet era movie.

"Alin!" he hears a loud cry of joy and turns around to see Katya.

"Hey," he replies quickly and before he knows what's going on the blonde girl is pulling him into a hug, skinny arms around his neck.

He responds to it, wrapping his hands around her frame and inhaling the smell of cheap shampoo, mixed in with cooking.

"So glad you came!" the girl gushes as they break apart the hug, "Nikolai has been a mess ever since your fight!"

Alin flinches at the words, a fresh bout of guilt washing over him.

"I'm sorry," he admits and he is. He knows the Bulgarian has his fair share of the blame but in the end of the day he shouldn't have said those things. Especially not the part about his family.

"You hurt him," Katya points out, a sympathetic look painted over her pale face, "It's because you really mean a lot to him, otherwise he wouldn't care about what you tell him."

The Romanian can feel his cheeks heat up at the statement and he wonders just how much the other has shared.

"Now that you're here, I'm sure he'll do much better!" the girl gushes at him and then turns around, heading for the oven.

"Have you eaten? I'm cooking right now,"

"Uh…thanks, but it's not necessary for you to-" Alin begins, realizing the family doesn't have much to go by.

"Oh, come on! We might be poor but we can't leave a guest hungry!" Katya insists, waving a finger at him.

It sounds exactly like a thing Nikolai would say and the Romanian can feel appreciation blossom in his chest. They might be poor, they might be criminals but they are for sure generous.

It's the typical Eastern European warmth and care for others, one which he misses more than he's willing to admit here in the USA.

"I made some soup," Katya points out as she pours the dish into two small bowls and hands them over to him.

"I'm sorry but I can only offer you some sliced bread as well, we don't have salad or dessert," she adds, an apologetic look written behind her light blue eyes.

"We've already given him more than enough," Radko grumbles from next to the door, busy taking off his worn off his worn out sneakers.

"Radko!" the Ukrainian chides him, "How many times do I have to tell you to behave?!"

Alin is finally starting to grasp the kind of mechanism they've established as a family. It's evident Katya is the adult around her and despite her young age she acts like the mother the others don't have.

The Serb rolls his eyes in indignation but doesn't argue any further, instead plops on the couch and digs into the food.

Alin doesn't miss the way Katya eyes him, the worry on her face. He has a bad feeling about the Radko but he can't quite put the pieces together.

"Can I go see Niko now?" he asks and the girl gives him an enthusiastic nod.

"Go ahead, I bet he's dying to see you!"

She leads him to the other's room, the one he shares a room with Radko. The Romanian takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the apology. Katya squeezes his arm,

"Don't worry, you coming here is evident enough you care about him," she says and then offers him another warm smile which he mirrors.

 

**xxx**

 

The first thing Alin notices is the soft snoring. Niko is asleep and he struggles to decide whether or not to wake up. He decides against it at first, wanting to give the his classmate some rest as well as take the chance to enjoy his sleeping form for a few more minutes.

He looks pale and exhausted, some dark shadows under his eyes. Not nearly as bad as Radko though.

Alin's dark brown eyes plunder lower, till they set over the pristine white bandages around his shoulder. His chest constricts in sympathy and he has the sudden urge to comfort him.

He sets the soup on a small table, carefully putting away the various books, clothes and other possessions that lay on it. It's evident Niko isn't much a fan of tidying up.

The Romanian then climbs into the bed, thankful for the many times he has stayed up at night, learning to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake up his mum or sister.

He runs a hand down the Bulgarian's pale face before leaning in and placing a small, innocent kiss over his forehead. Niko doesn't even stir but Alin can feel their fingers brushing against each other.

It's moments like these, the quiet intimacy between them that makes him appreciate what they share all the more. And regret his mistake, the ridiculous fight they've got into.

He lies down next to him, enjoying a few more minutes of the quiet, until the soup cools down.

His eyes explore the small room and yet again he realizes how little the other has. The room is dingy and crowded with stuff but it's all but useless. All clothes, pack of cigarettes, various alcohol bottles, sweat pants and falling apart sneakers. There a few volleyballs and a chessboard and Alin wonders how good the Bulgarian is and whether they could get a chance to play some.

That is if the other forgives him.

 

**xxx**

 

Waking Niko up proves to be a challenge but finally he manages to do the job. The Bulgarian blinks a few times sleepily before sitting up in bed.

He winces because of his shoulder and Alin is momentarily worried and scared.

"What are you doing here?" Nikolai asks, rubbing his eyes with his left hand.

"I…I came to see you. Radko came to school and told me and I was so worried and came here. Niko, I'm so sorry, I was an asshole, I shouldn't have told them that, now that I thought I could lose you, I –"

"Hey! Hey, slow down!" the Bulgarian cuts him off, taking in his hands, "It's okay. I fucked up too. You being here is enough."

"Really?" Alin asks, voice small and broken, "Are you really going to forgive me this easily?"

"Well, you could always bring me some yogurt," the taller teen jokes, shooting him a playful smirk.

"I have!" the Romanian all but gasps, hurrying up to his backpack and taking out the delicious dish.

"Then I'll love you forever, you leave me no choice," he says overdramatically and it's obviously a joke, even if Alin wishes it wouldn't be.

"Not but seriously…I was an ass too. You shouldn't have told Francis but I get how hard it must be for you put with…all this."

Alin nods, relief and gratitude sprouting in his chest. In all honesty, he just wants to put all of this behind.

"So uh, how are you?" he asks sheepishly as he gets up to bring the soup to him.

" _Добре_ ," Ivanov insists but the Romanian still looks at him intently, worry written over his face.

"Jeez, Alin, I got shot, so what? It's just a graze, I'll be as good as new in a week or less,"

"Getting shot isn't nothing, Niko," Alin points out and he can feel the atmosphere between them shift, becoming heavy like lead in the manner of seconds.

"This life you have…it's not normal," he adds, "I'm not saying that to hurt you but because I care about you."

The Bulgarian looks away, green eyes now dim with an unreadable expression behind them.

"I know," he says in the end, "I know but…I don't have a way out of this. Not till I graduate at least."

The Romanian doesn't like the answer but he understands and so he merely nods before moving back close to the other.

"Can you eat?" he asks, feeling a little sheepish.

His boyfriend still seems to appreciate the concern and grins back at him.

"Course!" he says, "I'm left handed, remember?"

Alin smiles at him, how could he have forgotten such an important detail about the other? Next time he'll do better.

They eat in silence until they hear a small knock on the door.

"Must be Natalya,"

He isn't sure he's heard the name before but he doesn't have much time to ponder it as the door swings open and a tiny girl, not older than five enters.

The Romanian is taken aback at how adorable she is – she's short and petite, long white blonde hair cascading down her back. She has large pink cheeks, contrasting against pale skin and two large, navy blue eyes. Natalya truly looks like a little porcelain doll.

"Katya said to bring you tea," the tiny girl says in broken English, carrying two large cups of tea.

Alin is surprised at how she carries them with ease, acting much older than she is.

"You're such a good girl, Natalya, thank you very much," Niko says in his normal voice, trying not to talk down to the girl.

She blushes and then offers a small smile which brightens the entire room,

"Is big brother going to be okay?" she asks, worry written behind her sea blue eyes as they fall over the green eyed boy's bandaged shoulder.

 _"_ _Да, разбира се!_ _"_ he assures quickly, flashing the other a bright smile of his own.

"Come here!" he adds and the girl quickly runs across the room and climbs up the bed.

Alin is taken aback at how gentle she is not to hurt him, almost as if she's used to this, when no child should be at this age.

Niko quickly introduces them to one another but Natalya proves to be quite shy and instead buries her small head into the Bulgarian's good shoulder.

"She's not used to strangers," he admits, patting her long platinum blonde hair, "It's just us that she sees."

"Doesn't she go to kindergarten?" Alin ponders, realizing the need for her to socialize.

Ivanov bites his bottom lip,

"We tried but she didn't get along with the others. She's very shy and doesn't like talking."

Alin nods, he knows a thing or two about being bullied.

"The boys bullied her cause she can't speak much English and most girls pulled her hair and called her Barbie. I think they're just jealous over how pretty she is," the Bulgarian adds, stroking her hair lovingly, a hint of pride crossing his face.

Needless to say Natalya is already half asleep in his embrace. Alin can feel something warm flutter in his chest, he's never seen how good the other is with kids. He now wishes to introduce him to Sorina.

"You've been teaching her English, haven't you?" he asks, recalling the small bits the girl has said in the foreign language.

Niko nods, sealing his suspicions.

"Katya and I are trying to give her a sense of normalcy…" he admits, voice suddenly heavy, "I…I don't want her to become like me and Radko. We grew up without parents and…look where we ended."

"Don't say that!" Alin argues loudly, but then hushes himself down as to not wake up Natalya, "You can always change and become better!"

The Bulgarian shoots him a small, sad smile.

"Alin…I heard what you said about me. I know what you really think about me now."

The Romanian can feel himself drowning in guilt, wanting to take back all he's said.

"I didn't mean that! I only told him so because I was angry and frustrated!" he argues desperately, "Not only at you but also at myself because I can't help you!"

"Sure," Niko mumbles under his breath, looking away.

Alin hates the insecurity he has brought over him, wants to dispel it all away.

"I care so much about you," he admits quickly, desperate to bring the other close before he's too far out of his reach and the walls he's fought to dismantle come back up again.

"I care about you too," Nikolai replies, no hesitation behind the words, "But…I have no idea how we're going to do this,"

The Romanian shakes his head, exhausted from all the drama. He just wants peace and quiet, a sense of security between them even if it's an illusion.

He scoops closer, mindful of his injuries. He can't lean in on him as his shoulder is still bandaged up but he closes the gap between them, their noses centimetres apart.

"It's okay, she's asleep," the Bulgarian assures when he sees his hesitation.

Alin leans in then, mashing their lips together. A wave of relaxation washes over him, being close to Niko tends to have that soothing effect. The taller teen tastes of tobacco and there's the after taste of alcohol but right now he's not one to complain.

When they break apart the green eyed boy hisses and Alin's gaze flies to his shoulder.

"Sorry," he mumbles, a sympathetic look painted over his face.

"Nah, it's nothing," Nikolai waves his good hand, "Ivan's been much worse than this, so has Radko."

"How did you manage to get shot anyway?"

The Bulgarian scoffs, as if it's unnecessary to ask in the first place,

"Most guys who come to the bar love guns, it was only a matter of time till someone got stupid drunk and did something like this. But don't worry Ivan kicked his ass."

Alin wants to protest, to tell him this is not okay, it's no laughing matter. He wants to keep him safe with all his heart and mind but he realizes at this point that is not an option.

So he sighs and lies down, as close to Nikolai as possible. He takes his hand and runs his thumb down his palm, it's a small reassuring gesture, just letting him know he's there. It feels weird for him to be the one offering support but as he finds out it's a role he doesn't mind filling when it comes to the other.

Niko's green eyes fly shut and he seems content, a look of complete relaxation coming over his handsome face.

"Go to sleep," Alin says quietly and before he even finishes the sentence the Bulgairan is out.

He follows close behind and can't help the smile over his lips.

Though things are not perfect, this, whatever it is, between them is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to make it official: Sorina Popescu = Moldova Natalya Braginska = Belarus
> 
> So what did you think of Alin's mother? Isn't she great with advice? And Nikolai's house – did you expect it to be like that?
> 
> What are your thoughts on the dynamics between the two boys? Was it surprising Niko was all that forgiving and that he too realized his mistakes (at least a little bit)?
> 
> And snuggling and falling asleep – aah, isn't that just the cutest thing in the universe?
> 
> Please share your opinions!


	15. More about the Past

 

**_More about the Past  
_ **

 

Once more time proves to speed up with Nikolai by his side.

Alin becomes used to going to his home, tutoring him every spare minute they get as midterms are fast approaching. He isn't entirely sure if the other's going to finish the school year by he holds onto the hope.

It seems to work as in the end Niko agrees to come to classes, once his shoulder is fully healed.

Christmas is right around the corner and he can already smell it in the air. Plus the jolly decorations which sparkle in bright red and green kind of give it away.

"Alin, just who I was looking for!" Feliciano beams at him, hands full of paper made snowflakes which he hangs all over the school windows, "I can use some help for this!"

The Italian's eyes fall over his, warm brown irises full of joy. Then they move and meet Nikolai's cold green and he can see the smile on his face falter for a second or so.

The taller teen stiffens and Alin can tell he's about to walk away, so he acts faster and clings onto his hand.

"Can Niko help too?"

For a fraction of a second Feliciano hesitates, worry and maybe a bit of fear flashing through his eyes.

"Sure, why not?"

It's a third, deeper voice and they turn around to see Francis, who's smiling at them, hands full of Christmas balls and various other decorations.

"Uh, I'm not the best with all the…uh, artsy shit," Nikolai admits and although his voice is gruff Alin can hear the insecurity in it from a mile away.

"No worries, we need someone to carry the boxes as Ludwig has to study for his math race for now!" Feliciano explains, all his previous worry having melted away the moment Francis has assured him,

"Did I tell you Ludwig had the highest score from the entire school! Ah, he's soo smart!"

"He sure is," the Romanian smiles, the warmth the other has spreads through the entire hall and he quickly finds himself drawn to it.

They start decorating, with Alin and Feliciano making paper snowflakes or drawing Christmas cards, Francis bragging about his wonderful interior design skills and Nikolai carrying the various boxes around with ease.

They laugh and joke around, it's silly and light hearted and just what they seem to need. Alin's eyes fall over Nikolai, taking in the way his pale skin contrasts against the navy sweater. It's good colour, it brings out the green in his eyes and highlights the turquoise flecks.

But what is more, he pays attention to the expression behind those irises. The Bulgarian looks happy, relaxed. He knows for a fact the other is extroverted but he only shows it before him and his family. Now though he appears to slowly open up to their classmates.

"And I'm telling you баница tastes so good you'll forget all about pasta," he tells Feliciano with a shit eating grin which makes Alin's chest flutter.

The Italian too seems to welcome him, finally he doesn't look scared.

"See I told you Feli can make friends with anyone," Francis whispers in his ear but the Bulgarian fortunately doesn't notice otherwise he'd be jealous.

Popescu grins at him,

"Maybe if he makes other friends he won't be so hell bent on hanging out with Ivan and the like," the French muses, blue eyes glued to the taller teen.

Alin starts considering the idea, he can almost hear the gears turn in his head. Quickly, he's come up with a plan.

 

**xxx**

 

At some point Ludwig joins them, wearing a silly Santa hat which is an exact copy of the one his boyfriend's head. No doubt a gift from him. Feliciano quickly runs up to him, jumping in his arms.

The German picks him up with ease and responds to the hasty kiss.

"Feliciano, maybe we should behave," he mumbles, always so proper.

His cheeks are a flamboyant red colour as the Italian wraps his hands around his neck and pulls him in for another deep kiss.

"Way to go," Francis chuckles, smiling at them warmly.

There is a flicker of sadness on his face though, a look telling he wants what they have too.

Alin turns to Nikolai and pays attention to his expression, it's one of longing. It mirrors the one on his one face and he realizes the Bulgarian wants it too. He too years for them to be openly close, to share moments of intimacy without worrying for what others would say.

"Sorry," the Bulgarian mumbles, as if reading his thoughts.

It makes a wave of guilt wash over Alin because no matter the reason he doesn't want the other to feel bed.

He walks up to him and takes in his hand which the other surprisingly doesn't protest, probably because he realizes Francis already knows while Ludwig and Feliciano are too drawn in each other to notice anything else.

 

**xxx**

 

Throughout the day they barely have classes as the teachers are caught up in the festive vibes as well. Alin is ecstatic, the happy smile never once leaving his face.

He's with his friends and his boyfriend and what more could he ask for?

When the others aren't looking Nikolai even pulls him into a corner, pushing his back against the wall. It's surprising and it makes a small (totally not girly) yelp fly past his lips but it is welcomed.

"Fuck, I've wanted to this all day long," the Bulgarian comments as his hands roam his torso, warm fingers making Alin bite his lip so he doesn't moan.

He meets the other's green eyes and he sees affection mixed in with something else. His pupils are large, big black circles contesting sharply against the light green rings of his iris.

It takes him a second to pin point what he sees in the other but then it hits him – it's desire. And not just for a kiss. Alin can feel his cheeks heat up as he realizes he wants it too. He hasn't thought much of them doing more than the heavy make out sessions as he never believed the other would like him back.

Now though he is certain and for once his wants silence the insecurities lurking at the back of his mind.

Nikolai kisses him but it's different from the previous kisses, it feels a bit _more_. He deepens the kiss, tongue coming into contact with his own. After a few seconds he pulls away, making him protest.

But he doesn't stop instead, plunges lower, lips coming into contact with his neck, sucking in on his tender flesh. Alin can't stop himself before the moan escapes his lips.

That seems to break the spell as Nikolai pulls away abruptly, almost as if he's just woke up from a dream. His green eyes dart left and right, making sure no one has seen them.

"Shit, we shouldn't be doing this here," he asserts, worry poking through his strong Slavic accent,

"You were the one who insisted," Alin smirks, already missing the feeling of warm lips over his skin.

"Sorry, I just…fuck. Lost control for a second,"

The Romanian wants to point out he rather likes this type of behaviour, his neck pulsating as he raises a hand and feels up the tender place. He makes a mental note to wrap his scarf tight before going home and the thought makes him flash a sheepish smile which Nikolai reflects.

 

**xxx**

 

The school day is almost over when it happens. Alfred flies in the room which they're decorating and Alin can tell by the look on his face some shit has go down.

His mind flies to Nikolai only to remind himself the Bulgarian is for once safe and secure with him.

"Guys, you've gotta come to the school yard!" the American pants, a little out of breath as he has no doubt been running to get them, "Mathew texted me, something's up!"

"What's going on?" Ludwig questions, setting aside the boxes he and Nikolai have been carrying around.

"What do you think?" Arthur huffs while his boyfriend tries to catch his breath, "That bloody wanker Radko is causing trouble again.

"Radko?!"

"Again? Wasn't he suspended only a few days ago?" Francis asks, bewilderment in his voice.

"We should go!" Alfred exclaims already turning to leave, "If he hurts someone, I swear I'll kick his ass."

The American flies out of the room, suddenly having regained his composure while Arthur and Ludwig quickly follow, the Brit warning him not to lose his temper.

Alin's dark brown eyes dart to his boyfriend but it's already too late, the Bulgarian is missing.

 

**xxx**

 

He doesn't get to see what happens as by the time he gets to the school yard show's pretty much already over. But what he gathers as info later, as Matthew, Alfred's twin brother tells them, is that Radko has picked up a fight with Sadiq.

The Romanian doesn't have to think twice of the cause, it's not hard to guess it must have been because of Elira.

Radko and Sadiq are taken away to the principle office and Alin is grateful as he is no mood to see the Serb. His blood boils as he realizes the perfectly happy day he's had is about be ruined by whatever drama the other has wrecked this time.

Later on he finds out Alfred has had to play peacemaker, only for him to lose his cool and finally snap. His fist is bloodied up while Arthur appears as though he might have a heart attack.

"You cock, why the bloody hell did you have to do this!?" the shorter blond demands while his boyfriend still appears angry, a stormy expression crossing his normally calm, sky blue eyes.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do, huh? Let him and Sadiq kill each other?" he demands, "Plus that arrogant piece of shit fucking deserves it after all the crap he's been doing for years."

"You might get suspended over this," Arthur barks at him but Alin can tell he's doing it purely out of concern, "You ever stop and bloody think about that?!"

The American doesn't reply, it's evident he doesn't regret his actions. To him being _right_ is much more important than being _proper_.

The entire school is buzzing with emotions, everyone talking over the other, taking sides. They all quickly side with the Turk and Alin has to agree.

But… he has a much more important task at hand, finding his wayward boyfriend before he does something stupid. Alin quickly rushes through the crowd, brown eyes searching for green.

In the end he finds him, leaning in against one of the school walls, cigarette between his lips in what look like an attempt to calm himself.

"Jesus, Niko, I've been looking for you,"

Nikolai remains silent, eyebrows knitted together as he takes a deep drag and shut his eyes, soaking in the nicotine bliss.

"Hey, answer me!" Alin protests before taking actions in his own hands and dragging the other in the direction of the school.

"They'll expel him," the Bulgarian comments matter of factly.

"Will it be such a bad thing?" he demands, too tired to play pretend and too fed up with all the trouble Radko has been causing. For Elira, for Sadiq, for the school and for the two of them.

Anger pulsates through his veins, he has always despised bullies and the Serbian looks like the embodiment of them. The more rational part of him argues to give the other an excuse, to blame it on him being poor. But no, being poor or not there is no justification for hurting others, trying to rape a girl or beat up a person.

All the previous experiences, all the bullying at home, it all pours over him and he snaps.

"And don't you dare get involved or else I fucking swear Nikolai, I'm done with you."

The words fly out of his mouth before he can process them and he freezes, eyes frantic, searching for Niko's reaction.

To his shock the Bulgarian, for once, doesn't argue, he merely nods, a look of strange acceptance having settled over his pale features.

Alin wonders how much more he knows that he's not telling him.

 

**xxx**

 

Radko is expelled but not just because of the fight.

"They found drugs on him," Francis comments, always one to know what's going on in the school, sometimes before it even happens, "And they're pretty sure he was on something during the fight."

"Makes sense, I mean even he shouldn't be careless enough to pick a fight right after being suspended." Ludwig reasons while Feliciano is pressed up against him, fight always seem to affect him.

Alin's eyes suddenly widen as he takes in the German's words. All the missing pieces of the puzzle finally click together and things makes sense.

He wants to facepalm at his own stupidity, for not figuring things out earlier.

Without a word he takes Nikolai's hand, ignoring the other's bewilderment and drags him away, until they're in a clear hall.

"How long has Ivan been doing this?" he demands, voice sharp.

"Doing what, I don't get you question and-"

"Don't fucking play dumb, Niko!" Alin screams, his entire being pulsating with rage. He hasn't been this angry in years, maybe ever.

"How long has he been selling drugs in that horrible bar of yours?"

"Keep your damn voice low!" The Bulgarian hisses at him, anger finally coming over to him as well.

"Oh, _this_ is what you're worried about!? The entire school will know cause of Radko now!"

Nikolai throws his hands in the air, almost as if he's not sure how to reply or what to do.

"Ivan didn't tell me." He says in the end, "He must have known I would react badly so he and Radko did everything on their own."

The Romanian isn't sure whether to believe him, after everything. He searches for his eyes and takes them in, the helplessness behind them.

"Alin, you have to believe me, I am telling the truth!"

He shakes his head, he feels completely drained. How naïve was he to think they could have a normal day?

"How did you find out then?"

"Radko he…he really fucked up. I guess at some point he started using and though he's really good at hiding things in the end Katya and I found out."

Alin nods, this much seems plausible. The Serbian has always seemed like the type to hide things, no matter what. Then again sooner or later the truth has the habit of shining through the lies.

"This one time he hit Natalya when he was on some shit and I swear fucking lost it, if it weren't for Katya I would have killed him then and there."

Popescu shudders at the very thought of it, the scene playing out in his mind.

How could the Serbian hit a kid? The one he lived with every single day, the one which probably loved him the same way she loved Katya or Nikolai?

Being on drugs or not, there is no excuse for hurting a child.

"I then told Ivan and to my surprise he didn't seem so shocked."

"So he knew," Alin whispers, realizing he should be angry. But at this point he's not surprised, after all he's always known Braginski is bad news. It's appalling how used he has become to all horrible things he has done to the point where they don't surprise him anymore.

"Yes… he confessed everything and he assured me he would make sure Radko stops."

"And you believed him!?" the Romanian exclaims, shaking his head, "Jesus, Nikolai how naïve are you?"

The Bulgarian stiffens and Alin knows he's crossed a line. The other might be willing to admit Radko is a fuck up but Ivan seems to have immunity.

"Radko did get clean for a while. He was still a fucking jerk of course but he stopped for some time."

Suddenly Alin remembers something – the way the Serb was shaking badly, his horrible looks, the shadows on his face, Katya's concern. He should have known, should have figured it out. Then again…of what used could it be?

"But of course he went back to it," Alin scoffs.

"Hey, it's not as easy as you think!" the Bulgarian protests, always one to give excuses for others.

"Oh, you have experience in that as well? Now we have to deal with-"

"No! Alin, I swear I don't do drugs. I've tried and I saw what a monster I was, I knew from that moment I could never do it again."

The Romanian meets his eyes once more and he knows he's telling the truth.

"Fine but…you have to make sure Ivan stops with all this…this shit, Niko! I can't be friends let alone more with someone who works for a drug dealer!"

The green eyed teen doesn't seem to even consider it before responding,

"Of course! I'll make Ivan stop one way or another, I swear Alin." He presses on, desperation written over his face, "I don't want to disappoint you."

Popescu smiles weekly because despite everything the other is telling the truth, the idiot.

It's then that they hear a light pair of footsteps and Elizaveta of all people comes into view.

"Now is not the time to-" he tries to protest but the girl doesn't so much as glance in his direction let alone hear his words.

"Are you doing drugs too?" she demands, hands crossed over her chest.

Alin is taken aback by her outburst which looks completely uncalled for but the Bulgarian doesn't seem as surprised as he should be.

"That's none of your business," he replies coolly but the shorter teen knows him well enough to read the hurt behind his words.

"Not my business?!" the Hungarian girl cries out, as if the words come as a shock, "Of course it is, you idiot! I don't want you to die or go to prison!"

Nikolai laughs, it's a bitter and cynical and it makes Alin shiver against the it, it sounds as though it doesn't belong to his boyfriend but rather someone whom he doesn't even know.

"Oh, really?" he mocks, eyes locked in a scorn.

The Romanian can't stop staring at him, shocked by the sudden change in him. It reminds him of someone else, maybe Ivan…no, not even him but Radko. It honestly scares him and he wants to protest but doesn't find the strength to.

"Then where the fuck were you, Lizzie?! Where were you when I needed you?"

Nikolai is screaming, the way he did when they were fighting in the park. Alin can't do anything but stare at them each, taking in the guilt written over the Hungarian's face.

"You fucking left me, you pretended not to know me! Do you have any damn idea how fucking terrible that felt?!"

"She what?" Alin can't stop the scream, it flies out of his lips on autopilot as the sudden realization washes over him, "Oh God, please don't tell me you too…"

"We were together," Elizaveta admits while Nikolai merely scoffs.

The Romanian is certain he goes deaf after hearing those words. He doesn't hear the way she points out it was many years ago.

All he knows is, he's absolutely fed up with the Bulgarian.

 

**xxx**

 

 _"_ _Hey, do you mind if I sit next to you?" Nikolai hears a small voice so he turns around only to spot a smiling girl next to him._

_She's new to the place – short and skinny, long brown hair falling past her shoulders and curling into gracious waves. She has green eyes just like him. He instantly likes her, probably because she's the first person to smile to him in years._

_"_ _Да, разбира се._ _"_ _he says, without thinking because Radko is the only person he talks too and he understands. As he sees her puzzled expression, he quickly realizes his mistake, "Uh, I mean yes."_

_The girl doesn't make fun of him as expected but instead just pulls away the chair and sits next to him as if that's the most natural thing in the world to do. She stretches out a hand in a greeting, a small smile playing over her pink lips,_

_"_ _My name is Elizaveta, I'm from Hungary."._

 _"_ _Nikolai Ivanov. Bulgaria." he replies, taking her tiny hand into his. Her fingers are freezing which is no surprise given that the common room isn't heated. He doesn't mind the cold, has become used to it long ago in Bulgaria, when there was money for heating during the harsh winter._

_Seeing the other freeze though is something else altogether, a terrifying sight he doesn't like._

_"_ _Sit closer to me." he says in a sudden bout of determination, powered through his usual impulsive nature._

_Elizaveta eyes him suspiciously for a few seconds but he doesn't waver. In the end she settles closer, her teeth were starting to chatter._

_Nikolai takes off his jacked and wraps it around them. The girl's eyes widen in surprise, which soon morphs into genuine appreciation. She snuggles against him, enjoying the newly found source of warmth and Nikolai isn't sure if it's her or him that is happier from the contact._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_From that point on their friendship is official and only starts to grow. Their bond is special and pure, forged in childish games and silly jokes, rid of all the nuances that adulthood tends to impose on people._

Their friendship, unlike most adults' is real.

_They both find some sort of strange solace in the fact they only have each other, not another soul in the world that is on their side._

_Nikolai smiles, things would be okay now. At least he is no longer alone._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_One day Elizaveta explains to him how adoption works._

_"_ _Basically they only want American, white kids." she says, voice blunt. Nikolai has to admire how straight-forward she is at the age of nine._

 _And sadly, he has to admit that she is right. Although there are many black kids and Hispanics, the couples that come over never even look at them. The only adopted ones are white_ and _American._

 _"_ _Do you think someone will adopt us?" he asks quietly, trying not to show the hope in his voice._

_Truth to be told, he already knows the answer. Americans don't adopt trouble makers from Eastern Europe and he is all but the embodiment of trouble._

_Elizaveta laughs and absent-mindedly he thinks how beautiful her laugh sounds against the grey atmosphere of the orphanage._

_"_ _No, of course not. We are not American."_

 _"_ _Oh." he says in a flat voice, trying to pretend he understands. What is wrong with not being American? He just doesn't get it. People in Bulgaria aren't judgemental like this._

 _"_ _Well, we still have a better chance than other kids. I mean look at Radko – not only is he Eastern European like us, but he is also scared."_

_Nikolai frowns._

_"_ _What is wrong with that?"_

 _"_ _Nothing…" Elizaveta whispers but something in her voice tells Nikolai she does think it's wrong, "But couples only want good and pretty children. He doesn't stand a chance and I doubt anyone would ever love him."_

_The Bulgarian bites his lip, he's absolutely terrified of the prospect that maybe her words stand for him as well._

_(And when Radko hears he is terrified as well)._

_Elizaveta seems to sense his distress and so she puts a delicate hand over him, offering a small squeeze._

_"_ _Hey, at least we have each other!" she says in a sing voice but the sincerity and seriousness is poking from the edges of the words and it offers a reassurance he's never been given before._

_Nikolai feels a wave of warmth wash over him and he beams at her._

_For the first time since his father's death he has someone, someone close and warm, someone he can protect but can count on to comfort him as well._

_"_ _Да,_ _we do."_

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_With that things seem to settle and Nikolai finds himself spending more and more time with the Hungarian. The girl is liked by the teachers, probably due to her good looks and nice manners._

_One day she even gets them a free pass in the kitchen where Nikolai surprisingly finds himself very talented._

_In the matter of months he starts chopping supplies and memorizing recipes and even manages to win the heart of most of the older cooks._

_Elizaveta isn't good at cooking but she seems to enjoy watching him, a small gracious smile plastered over her thin pink lips at all times._

_"_ _You're really good at this," she tells him one day as he proudly presents her a chicken soup and they eat it while talking about everything and nothing._

 _Nikolai's heart slams against his chest and he can feel his cheeks are as red as the tomatoes he's put in the_ Shopksa Salata _he's just made._

 _"_ _You-you think?"_

 _"_ _Of course!" Elizaveta beams at him, as if complimenting him is the most normal thing in the world when he can't even remember the last time anyone has been nice to him besides her._

_He meets her eyes, they're filled with mirth and hope, with childish optimism. They're starkly different from Radko's one remaining brown eye which is always full of hatred and despise for everyone._

_Nikolai clings onto the energy she projects, he clings onto the hope that maybe he'll find some of it himself once again._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_Over the months Nikolai finds himself glued to Elizaveta, admiring the small girl more than he can possibly put into words._

_Whatever little English he knows is thanks to her._

_She's strong and outspoken despite being short and tiny, she's always one to speak her mind and never let the world get to her._

_But there's another side to her, a gentle and sophisticated one. She always tries to look pretty and one small part of the Bulgarian, a part he has yet to explore, secretly hopes that maybe that he has something to do with that._

_Her charm isn't merely in her looks, it's in her personality, her ability to be both soft and strong, smart and wild, caring and unwavering when the situation calls for it._

_Looking at the iron will and an endless amount of optimism locked behind her green eyes, Nikolai starts to feel as though maybe life isn't so bad when she's by his side._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_He tries to teach her to cook and she explains basic math to him. Together they run around the orphanage, play cards in the evening and sneak out on sight-seeing in the evenings._

_Nikolai jokes she has the worst sense of orientation while he always seems to make their way back to the orphanage before curfew, not that the teachers care much about their safety._

_During the long summer nights they climb up on the roof and gaze at the stars while enjoying food Nikolai has cooked up for them with Elizaveta's help._

_The Bulgarian steals glances from her, plays with her hair and sometimes even holds her hand and wishes that somehow these years of his life would never end._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_It's been half an year since they met when their fingers intertwine and Nikolai can feel a jolt of electricity running through him before he gasps and stares at her, face as red as tomato._

_Over the years he perfects himself and becomes a master at flirting but back then, at the age of ten, when he's a scrawny kid with no idea of what love is like, he's the epitome of awkwardness._

_Elisaveta laughs out loud at his embarrassment before leaning in and landing a soft kiss over his lips._

_It's childish and completely innocent and it's over before the Bulgarian even knows it has begun but it's still the best thing ever._

_There is something indescribably beautiful about the innocence of love when it's between two kids._

_Elisaveta's laughter echoes throughout the orphanage as she offer a snickering, "You should have seen your face!"_

_Nikolai gets his revenge when he takes her by surprise and lands a quick peck on her lips, the way he's seen adults do it._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_When the next winter rolls by they sleep together, snuggled against each other with Nikolai's face buried in her brown locks._

_Somewhere in the back of his mind he starts thinking that maybe the feeling of warmth when she's snuggled in against him is what happiness is like, what people write novels about and what the songs on the radio are trying to tell them._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_It's all great until one day Radko starts a fight like all other days. This time though he targets her, calls her names Nikolai doesn't want to repeat._

_They fight, they always fight. It's the one constant in his life these days._

_"_ _Oh, what, you're choosing this whore over me?" the brunette demands sharply, eye wide in rage._

_The Bulgarian breaks into laughter, all of a sudden he is finding this ridiculous._

_"_ _There is no sense in choosing at all. You hate me and I hate you while I love her."_

_And he does._

_In that childish, sweet and pure kind of way. Not in a sexual way, not yet. The love children have for one another is perhaps the purest form of love, before money and lust taint it._

_Elizaveta wraps his arms around him and tears him away from Radko._

_That night they don't sleep, just talk. About Bulgaria and Hungary and the orphanage, and what the sea must feel like and how much they both love dogs._

_Simple, easy things. Small things which in the end turn out to be the big ones._

_And then they talk about how one day they'll live together and have their own children and never once leave them._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_Elizaveta is leaving._

_Niko feels like crying for the first time since his dad died because why does everyone have to leave him?_

_But he forces a smile over his lips, after all this is for the better. Elizaveta deserves better, she deserves a family._

_Probably more than him._

_The girl hugs him tight, buries her face into his shoulder and he kisses her hair, inhaling her scent one last time. He can feel his T-shirt become wet at an increasing rate as the brunette quietly sobs into him._

_Her new parents (that just sounds wrong) are a wealthy couple and he's happy because even if he doesn't stand a chance for a normal life, at least she does._

_Truth to be told one of the older teachers at the orphanage asks them to adopt him as well to which the woman scrunches her nose in what he can only guess is disgust,_

_"_ _I told you, we don't want any Eastern Europeans,"_

_Nikolai is so heartbroken at Elizaveta leaving, he doesn't even take offence at the notion._

_The small girl breaks away from her parents' grip and runs to him, smashing their lips one last time before she's dragged away._

_A tear rolls down his pale cheek but he rubs it off as quickly as it came._

_Niko stares after the car that takes her away as he runs his fingers over his numb lips._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_It's probably then when he goes a little mad and something in him just breaks and he knows from then on things are different._

_"_ _I'm so fucking happy she left," Radko says purely out of spite as he watches him crumble,_

 _"_ _You don't deserve anyone. You'll die alone one day." He adds, disgust pouring from the words._

_Niko is used to the hatred the Serb has for him but this time it's different, this time he's had enough._

_His fist connects with the other's boy nose on instinct and the other is so surprised he falls on the floor like a sack of potato, his one remaining brown eye full of shock._

_They fight that day until they're both covered in blood and Niko has the horrifying realization that maybe he's starting to drown in the same hatred that the Serbian is._

 

**_xxx_ **

 

_The change in Nikolai after Elizaveta has left is noticeable as day and night._

_There is nothing and no one to strive to be better for._

_Now all he has is the darkness in his mind which threatens to drawn him and anyone who's close._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter and the twists it threw in!
> 
> What did you think of Alin and Niko becoming closer and having a good time? Or Feliciano and Francis warning up to him?
> 
> And then all the shit that happened afterwards? Elizaveta and Nikolai revealed to be together when they were kids? How do you think Alin will react?
> 
> Please review! ^^


	16. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing an update but I've been quite busy lately...I hope the fluffy chapter makes up for it ^^

 

**_Chapter 16: Christmas_ **

 

After the fiasco following Radko's expel nothing much happens, much to Alin's surprise. The school falls back into normalcy with the holidays fast approaching.

He and Nikolai however…he isn't certain he wants them to go back to normal. Prior to learning about the drugs and Elizaveta he would have loved to, he would have struck out the incident and moved on.

That's what he had been doing, never paying attention to the details, always focusing on the bigger picture and clinging onto the hope that the Bulgarian would change one day.

Now though…now he is tired, fed up with the drama, the hiding, the lies. Truth to be told Nikolai hasn't lied, he has just forgotten to tell the truth. Still, that observation doesn't wash away the bitter taste of betrayal and disappointment in Alin's mouth.

His phone rings once again, the familiar melody filling the air of his room. He hesitates, fingers lingering over the screen as a picture of the pale Bulgarian and him together, sticking their tongues out at the camera flashes before his dark brown eyes.

Alin's heart screams at him to pick up but his mind prevails and with one swift motion he hits ignore. Before he would be ecstatic for the other to call but now it feels as though something between them has been broken.

 _Not completely_ as his heart argues. No, there is a chance to fix things, except this time it won't be him that sticks the broken pieces back together. For once it has to be Nikolai to show him he cares.

He feels angry and betrayed, angry and at Ivanov for hiding about him and Elisaveta, someone whom he knows he can't stand. Angry and Ivan and Radko for dragging Niko down in their mess.

And maybe angry and himself because he still cares so much about the damn bastard and realizes the moment he does something nice, he'll be back in his arms.

The Romanian buries his head against the pillows of his bed, feeling like a teenage cliché. He can't help it though, can't order his heart to feel something else.

He just wants Nikolai to reassure him, show him he meant something with all the kisses and hugs and all the time spent together.

 

**xxx**

 

"Why is Allie so sad?" Sorina asks as she jumps on the sofa next to him.

Alin forces a smile over his lips, ignoring the stupid nickname she has come up with for him after they settled in the USA. He turns around to see her, taking in the concern over her tiny round face.

"No, I'm not, see I'm perfectly happy!" he tries to assure, flashing a grin which he prays can pass as plausible.

Sorina squints her hazel eyes, face contorting in doubt.

"Nu! Mummy says you just tell us that so we don't worry!" she declares, crossing her arms over her chest in childish certainty.

The older Romanian can't help but chuckle, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well mummy is very smart," he admits in the end, seeing as there's no point in arguing,

"Of course she is, that's why she can tell your big brother has another episode of his relationship drama," comes a third voice as their mother walks up into the room, carrying some last minute dishes and placing them on the table.

Sorina grins at her mother before a conspiring look settles over her face,

"Mummy, can I give Allie his present early to make him happy?"

Alin raises an eyebrow, warmth washing over him as he realizes his sister has made something for him. Truth to be told, he doesn't care about the gift at all, the fact she's made one is more than enough.

"Well…normally Santa wouldn't approve of this but I guess we could make an exception,"

"YAY!" the little girl cries out, then gets up from the sofa and dashes off in the direction of her room where she has no doubt hidden the gift. Alin muses, probably under the bed.

"Everything okay?" his mother questions, flashing him a concerned look.

"Course," he assures quickly but his mother isn't buying it and so he concedes, "I guess I should just…accept Nikolai doesn't care as much as I do."

"Oh, now you're just being melodramatic," his mum chuckles, shaking her head "He did call you, what more do you want him t do?"

The Romanian opens his mouth to argue but he's interrupted by Sorina tugging at his jeans, a small package in her hands.

"My art teacher helped me wrap it," she beams at him, pride written in her eyes,

"It looks good," Alin comments, taking in the small parcel and unwrapping the red decorative paper.

Once he opens it, it feels as though his heart melts. In his hands he finds a picture, one of his mother, Sorina and him. And Nikolai.

His eyes widen in surprise, she hasn't met the Bulgarian yet. As if reading his mind, his mother speaks up,

"She asked me to show her a picture of him," she admits, a sly look over her features, "I've got to admit judging from his Facebook, Niko's really cute."

"Mum!" Alin cries out, cheeks as red as a tomato as the two giggle at his embarrassment.

"It's lovely, Sorina," he admits, pulling his sister into his lap and placing a kiss over her dark blonde hair.

The girl flashes him a pearly grin,

"Glad you like it!" she responds, trying to sound all grown up before running up to the Christmas three and playing with all the decorations.

Alin leans against the sofa, his spirits lifted. His eyes trail over his sister and his mother, a new sudden appreciation for them washing over him. He closes his eyes and thanks God for his family as he realizes how important they are to him.

Once he peeks, his glance falls over the gift once more. Though Sorina is still young she too has a talent for drawing which already shows.

It's a pretty picture, one drawn in lively colours, lines a little sloppy but obviously done with much love.

The drawing is put in a simple golden frame with the words, _Merry Christmas_ written on the bottom half in crimson.

And in the centre he sees him and Nikolai, smiling. The Bulgarian's eyes are a grass-like green, his hair a nice light chocolate brown. Sorina has drawn him in the same hoodie he's swearing in his profile picture though the blue is a little more on the purple side which makes him chuckle.

Before Alin can stop himself he pulls the picture to his chest, a wave of sentimentality coming over him. It looks like a family photo and he wishes with all his heart the Bulgarian would actually show up so he could present it to him.

Seeing the other make an effort would be a Christmas present as good as any other.

 

**xxx**

 

Alin can't help as his mood slips lower, despite the combined efforts of his mother and sister. He feels like the worst son and big brother in the world but at the same time, he can't help but wish Niko would at least _try_ to make an effort, show he cares.

It's somewhere during the evening that the bell rings, the small sound piercing through the house air which smells of ginger bread cookies (American recipe this time as they're trying new things).

"I'll get it," he says quickly, opting for a quick escape so he can get the chance to pout on his own.

He opens the door and freezes at the sight before him.

Nikolai of all people is standing before him, red cheeks from the cold contrasting against his pale sides and his hair a mess from wearing a hat.

"Uh, a _hello_ would be nice," the Bulgarian says, taking in his surprise.

Alin is speechless, making sure he pinches himself just so he knows he's not dreaming.

"Hi…it's just that I-uh-didn't expect to see you…" the Romanian rambles, still finding it hard to believe the other has come to his house all on his own, "I mean after everything that happened."

Nikolai gulps, a tiny bit of uncertainty flashing through green eyes.

"I just…wanted it to be a surprise," he admits and now Alin notices the parcel he's clinging onto his chest.

He opens his mouth in shock, could the other have bought an actual gift for him? And to think he hasn't got him anything! Guilt washes over the Romanian and he struggles to find a response.

"Alin…are we uh, broken up?" the Bulgarian asks, looking away.

Alin's eyebrows shoot up to his forehead – what is the other talking about? Sure, he is pissed off about the whole drug fiasco with Radko and Elisaveta and maybe a ton of other things but… _this_?

" _Nu_ ," he responds quickly, waving a hand, " _Nu, nu,_ course we're not. I mean don't get me wrong you are an epic asshole but…you're my asshole."

Ivanov's cheeks are now a flaming red colour and his lips curl into the silliest smile. Still, green eyes sparkle with joy.

"Oh, thank God!" he exclaims and Alin is caught off guard by his sudden display of feelings, "I thought after you heard about me and Liz and uh…everything else you wouldn't want me anymore."

Alin squints his eyes,

"Oh, don't test me, I am at the end of my limits," he points out, making sure to make his tone light hearted but still carrying the message.

Niko's smile falters a little and the Romanian is quick to reassure him,

"Come on, get inside!" he says but the other seems to hesitate.

"You're…going to invite me in?"

"Well, yeah, unless you want us to have a Christmas party on the stairs." He responds, taking in his larger hand so he can wash away any remaining doubts.

 

**xxx**

 

The evening proves to be a dream come true, full of awkward first introductions and his mother's endless teasing of the two of them.

Alin is taken aback at how easily Nikolai gets along with Sorina to the point where he might be a little jealous. His little sister is currently perched up in his lap, presenting to him the latest of her drawings.

The Bulgarians oohs in awe and makes sure to point out the smallest of details which makes the girls grin.

"Allie, Niko is perfect!" she exclaims with childish conviction, "You should marry him!"

They both laugh at her words and Alin makes sure to take a mental screenshot of the embarrassed red over the Bulgarian's cheeks and tease him about it later when they're alone.

"Niko, I'm really glad you have you here but won't your family miss you?" his mother asks out of the opposite end of the table, a concerned look over her face.

The green eyed teen freezes, holding onto a ginger bread cookie midair.

"Uh…well, my family they uh- don't celebrate Christmas today." He explains in the end, looking away.

"How come?" Sorina exclaims, a confused look on her round face.

"Well…it's celebrated on the 7th of January *," Niko explains, "And us Bulgarians celebrate it today on the 25th."

Alin meets his eyes, taking notice of the sadness behind them. He realizes what it means, how much Nikolai must miss his parents, especially on Christmas.

His heart sinks in sympathy and suddenly he wants to wrap his hands around the Bulgarian, hug him until everything that is wrong in his life feels a tad bit better.

He knows his excuse is bogus, although coming to think of it Ivan _does_ strike him as the kind of guy to be ultra-nationalistic, clinging onto Russian traditions even in the USA. He can only imagine he would pressure Nikolai and Radko and especially Katya and Natalya to follow his ideas.

"That's really interesting," he says, purely as to change the subject, "Mum, you should have seen all the Christmas decorations at school!"

"I decorated too!" Sorina grins, darting off the table to get her drawings of Santa.

Alin's mum has her eyes linger over Nikolai, a look of compassion written over her face.

 

**xxx**

 

Once dinner is over Sorina demands that Nikolai reads her a bedtime story and the green eyed teen is more than willing. One quick nod of approval from his mother and the Bulgarian scoops up the small girl, making her shriek in joy and carrying her towards her room.

Alin on the other hand opts to help his mother with the dishes and tidying up the apartment.

His mum leans in against the kitchen's cupboard, dark brown eyes falling over him.

"So?" the teen boy prompts, "Does he have your mum stamp of approval."

The older Romanian chuckles, her dark locks tossing from one side to the other in the process. She truly is a beautiful and intelligent woman and Alin is proud to call her his mother.

"Yeah, he does," she responds, "I like him, he acts great with you and he's so gentle and kind to Sorina. He's a good boy."

The last words catch Alin off guard and he has to struggle with the lump in his throat. His entire being is screaming at him that his mother should know Nikolai isn't really a good boy, that he's got himself into trouble and he's not sure if he can get out of it.

At the same time though…it's Christmas Eve and his mind is buzzing with joy, his heart is full of love. He can't bring himself to speak up, lips tightly pressed together.

"Something wrong?" his mother asks, a knowing look crossing familiar dark orbs.

Alin opens his mouth to respond but it's then that he hears footsteps.

Nikolai opens the kitchen door, a happy look on his face.

"Dude, you have the coolest little sister, she's so smart!"

"Yeah, Allie sure is lucky," the older woman teases, winking at him.

"Allie?" the Bulgarian asks, raising a devious eyebrow as mischief dances in his eyes, "Oh, I swear that's what I'm calling you from now on!"

"Good job mum!" Alin cries out in indignation which is followed by roaring laughter.

 

**xxx**

 

They lie in bed and Alin can't help the lazy smile tugging at his lips.

Nikolai has wrapped his hand around him and the Romanian effectively melts into the touch, shutting his eyes closed and soaking in the moment.

Still, there is something on his mind, something he needs to address.

"Niko…" he begins, catching the other's attention, as he turns his head to face him,

"Yeah, what is it?"

Alin takes a deep breath, there's no point in dancing around the subject.

"Do you still like Elizaveta?" he asks, voice small but still pressing for answers.

The Bulgarian shifts, rolling onto his side. The room is dark but he can still see his pale face which is illuminated by the street lights and make out his handsome features. He tries to read the expression over them but his mind is blank and he waits for the other to speak up.

"What do you think?"

Popescu sighs, exasperated. When it comes to this, he's not in the mood for games,

"I don't know what to think anymore. One day I find you work at this horrible bar, then it turns out Ivan sells drugs, Radko is a rapist in the making and then…then to top it off you've been with Elizaveta and so-"

Alin feels something warm over his face and looks up to lock his gaze with Nikolai's. Green eyes appear silvery in the dim lighting, his pupils two large dots against the light rings,

"Alin, listen, I might be a fuck up and my family is well…even worse, and yeah I might have been with Liz but…you've got to believe me when I say it's you I care about now."

The Romanian opens his mouth, taken aback by the sudden proclamation. His own insecurities threaten to take over, to drawn the other's voice but he silences them and focuses on Niko's words and actions, which serve as the best reassurance. Shock slowly slips away and is replaced by something warm which spreads through his chest.

"You believe me right?" Ivanov insists, green orbs dipped in insecurity.

Popescu looks at him, searching for lies but finds none. His mind tells him not to trust the Bulgarian, not after everything that's happened. It's not rational, it's not a good idea. But…his heart argues that it's what he really wants and it has the habit of being louder than his brain.

" _Da_ ," he says in the end and the small word manages to dissipate any tension between them.

Nikolai's lips stretch into a grin before he pulls him for a quick peck. He tastes of cookies and it's nice, it almost feels as if they're a normal couple celebrating the holidays together. Alin doesn't have the time to enjoy a legitimate kiss as the other pulls away in a flash, as if having just remembered something.

The Bulgarian moves from next to him and he peaks up to see what's going on. Ivanov is checking out his phone and Alin immediately worries that maybe Ivan is about to call, Christmas or not.

"Relax, I'm only looking for the time," Niko waves a hand, effectively reading his mind, "And it's past twelve, so technically you can see your present."

Alin stares for a few seconds, mind blank for a few short moments. He's forgotten all about the sloppily wrapped gift the other has brought. Truth to be told, it doesn't matter to him, the Bulgarian being showing up, making an effort for him the greatest present he could ask for.

Still, the act of kindness makes something in his heart melt and he jumps out of the bed, rushing towards the Christmas tree like a six-year-old. Niko laughs behind him, not too loudly as they might wake up his mum and sister.

 

**xxx**

 

Alin unwraps the gift in a few swift motions and holds onto the small toy that meets his eyes.

"You like it?" Nikolai asks, peeking from behind his shoulders.

Though his tone is light-hearted, he can still hear the small traces of uncertainty from the edges of the accented words.

"It's a vampire," Alin points out the obvious, squeezing the small plushie.

It's one of those cheesy stuffed toys with large red eyes, white, sharp teeth and a cape. Popescu can't help but laugh at the cape which is made of some shiny polyester like cloth.

"Reminded me of you," Niko admits with a shrug.

"Cause I'm Romanian?" Alin chuckles, shaking his head, "You Bulgarians really care about nationalities and whatnot, don't you?"

The taller teen shrugs,

"Well yeah, I thought it would be funny. Plus if we go by stereotypes, I should be asking you where my bottle of vodka is?"

Alin pales a little, looking away. He's not sure what exactly to say, somehow he should have seen this coming except he was so happy all evening being with the other, he hasn't thought it through.

"Um…uh, I didn't get you anything," he blurts out in the end, feeling his cheeks become as red as the cape of the plushie vampire.

Nikolai's eyes widen for a fraction of a second and disappointment flickers through the sea of green but it dies out just as quickly as it came. Instead he plasters on a wide smile,

"No worries, presents are lame any way," he says in a haste, "Plus I mean I only bought yours as a joke and it's nothing special or expensive so-"

"Niko," Alin interrupts him, quickly shortening the distance between them, "No need to make excuses, I'm the one who screwed up. I didn't think we would celebrate Christmas and-"

"Because you were mad at me," the Bulgarian interjects, looking at his feet,

"Yes but…you proved me wrong and you showed me you do care and-" Popescu pauses, unsure how to continue, "And that's one of the most amazing things anyone has done for me."

"Proving you wrong?" Niko chuckles, raising an eyebrow, "Man, I love doing that to others,"

Alin shakes his head with a smile,

"I didn't mean that but rather…you showed me you care and-"

He hesitates about what to say, wondering how far he can go with what he wants to express. In the end the Bulgarian beats him to it and leans in, joining their lips together.

Popescu takes him in, wraps his hands around his neck as the other deepens the kiss. They haven't been close for days and now the contact feels all the better, almost electrifying in its intensity.

Nikolai lifts him up from the floor and Alin can't help the small (definitely very manly) squeal which flies past his lips.

They continue the make out session on the bed, quick and messy touches, deep kisses. The Bulgarian is on top, taking charge as he kisses him lower, going for his neck and then his clavicle.

Alin shuts his eyes close, he can feel himself harden by the minute. He realizes where this is going but he honestly can't do it. Not yet. And not because he doesn't want to but because he's still not ready.

Niko senses his hesitation and stops, pulling away a little. His hair is a little longer, soft brown locks falling around his pale face. Popescu raises a hand and runs his fingers through them.

They keep silent for a few brief moments, eyes locked together, green falling over dark brown.

It's just the two of them and the silence of his room and honestly Alin feels like he can't even describe what it is between them. There are no words, neither in English, nor Romanian. It's that feeling he doesn't have a name for, the feeling where you want to cling onto a moment, snatch at it and put it in a box so you can get to look at it every time you want.

Maybe those moments are all about what life should be like.

"You wanna go to sleep?" Ivanov asks in the end, effectively making sure there aren't any small traces of awkwardness between them.

Alin is eternally grateful that they don't have to talk this through, that he doesn't have to explain he isn't ready, not yet.

"Yeah," he says simply and Ivanov nods, turning to his side and wraps strong arms around him.

The Romanian shifts until they face each other, the ridiculous vampire plushie between them. He buries his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling in the taller boy. He doesn't smell of alcohol this time, not it's rather a minty shampoo and maybe something else which is mixed in with a trace of smoke. Maybe…maybe the Bulgarian has decided on a new perfume and Alin can't help but smirk at the idea Niko is making an effort to impress him.

They keep quiet for a long time and he can feel himself almost drift off. But he still remains awake, clinging onto the magical moment, wanting to seal every little detail of it in his mind.

He wonders if Niko is asleep until he hears him talk,

"Today was the first time it felt like Christmas since dad died," he admits, voice quiet but sincere, "Thank you,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo what did you think of the Christmas fluff? I'm sorry if this chapter was a little on the cheesy side but…Let me tell you – enjoy it while it lasts! Because in the next chapters shit will go down!
> 
> * Christmas really is celebrated on the 7th of January in Russia, Ukraine and Belarus.
> 
> Don't you just love Moldova as a little sister...ah, I swear I just love writing sibling dynamics so much...
> 
> Thoughts on Alin and Niko's relationship progressing and cheesy gifts xD?
> 
> Please review!


	17. More to the Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains child abuse, if you're affected by such themes, please read with caution.

 

**_More to the Story_  
**

 

A few days after Christmas they're currently in his room, watching fat snowflakes dance in the air and cover the ground in pristine white.

It's one of those seemingly endless, quiet winter afternoons when the world appears somehow smaller and the warmth between people contrasts with the cold outside.

They're watching Disney movies, something which Nikolai proves to be a big fan of, regardless of the constant eye-rolling and snarky comments about how the happy endings aren't realistic.

Once the movie is over and he sees the final logos of _The Lion Kin_ g fade into the black of the screen, Alin leans in and shuts the device close.

"Admit it, you loved it?" he teases, leaning in against the taller teen.

He offers a small nod and the Romanian writes it off as a victory.

Niko pins his wrists down, the movement quick and surprising but no unwelcomed. Alin doesn't even fight it, he kinda enjoys the other taking control.

The Bulgarian eyes him, as if exploring every inch of him and memorizing it.

"Alin, you know have pretty eyes, right?" he asks out of nowhere, surprising him so much he has to scoff.

"They're just dark brown, nothing special," Alin argues on autopilot, "Not like your green,"

Nikolai chuckles, shaking his head,

"Okay, first off, they have a tiny bit of red in them which makes me want to confirm my theory that you're a vampire,"

The Romanian laughs out loud, the light sound flying across the room,

"Man, you like stereotypes, don't you?"

The green eyed teen shrugs,

"I mean it, you're…pretty cute,"

Alin gasps theatrically, one hand over his heart, the other on his forehead. He should really try out for the Drama Club which Francis and Feliciano lead.

"Is that Nikolai Ivanov offering a compliment?" he inquires in exaggerated shock, "The world's coming to an end!"

"Haha, very funny…you should enjoy it while it lasts,"

"I do," Alin shoots back, with certainty.

The tone between them shifts, from lighthearted and playful to something else, something they aren't quite sure how to label.

"And you…you're so handsome and interesting and different from everyone I've met and-" Popescu bites his lip, unsure how to continue, "These past months…even though you're a stubborn idiot, they're the best of my life,"

Nikolai seems shocked at the words but it quickly melts away, morphing into what looks like genuine happiness. It suits him so much, it makes him even more beautiful in Alin's eyes, if that were possible.

Green eyes sparkle with joy as he leans in, closes the gap between them. It's long kiss, full of a emotion, one the Romanian begins to realize stands for a little more than just a mindless high school crush.

The taller teen goes lower, to his clavicle and neck which he has already seem to claim as his own territory. One large hand buries under his T-shirt and strays over his torso, caressing soft skin in large, even moments.

"God, you're good," Alin all but moans because even though they're not really doing anything all that special, he already feels turned on.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" he asks, words slipping past his lips before he thinks them through,

Niko pulls away, a little surprised by the sudden question,

" _Да,_ I have," he admits, "I've had sex with a few women,"

Alin nods, he's not surprised, if anything he's come to suspect the Bulgarian has some experience under his belt, otherwise he wouldn't be so confident when it comes to… _this_.

"With Liz?" he inquires, heart stinging with hurt at the mere thought,

"Fuck, no," the green-eyed boy shoots back, shaking his head, "We were kids when we were together,"

"And after that?" Popescu presses on, he wants the entire truth regardless of whether it's a pretty one, "Did you…uh, rekindle your relationship once again in high school?"

Nikolai pulls away slightly, a look of betrayal flashing through his face,

"Alin, she…she pretended not to know me," he admits, words laced with bitterness, "When I tried to talk to her she said I was just some Eastern European freak who wanted to have his way with her,"

The Romanian gasps at the admission, feeling anger bubble up his chest. He's never been a fan of Elizaveta but _this_ …he now legitimately hates her for hurting Niko.

"She said I was just as bad as Radko," the taller teen adds, a reminiscent expression over his pale face.

"That's not true," Alin argues immediately, raising his voice by an octave or so, "You're nothing like that monster!"

Ivanov doesn't reply, almost as if he isn't so sure about it.

"And fuck Elizaveta for treating you like that!"

Niko's eyes widen in surprise at his swearing, it's so unusual for him to talk like that or voice his disapproval so someone so strongly.

"I don't…I don't blame her actually. She just wanted to fit in which meant…throwing me under the bus I guess."

The Romanian narrows his eyes, dark brown orbs full of fury.

"You're just too good with people sometimes," he points out, "I get what it's like to want to fit in… _believe me I do_ , but what she did is inexcusable!"

Nikolai looks away and Alin hates how insecure he is when it comes to others caring about him. He might be confident in his fights but when it comes to this…Popescu sighs, he supposes it's only natural.

The Bulgarian has lost his parents, Radko despises him and Ivan seems like the worst when it comes to keeping him safe.

Can he honestly blame him for not feeling confident in people?

"Can we be done with all the…feelings and mushy talk?" Nikolai asks, the smirk having returned to his face, the mask back up.

Alin nods, realizing he shouldn't push him,

"Yeah…uh, I quite liked what we were doing before being interrupted," he says, trying to return to those feelings before the talk.

The Bulgarian happily obliges with what he implies, continuing with his kisses and plunging lower.

The shorter teen hesitates; he's still not ready for sex. To him it _is_ a big deal, despite the way society sees it now, as nothing more than taking off your clothes as just doing it, getting over with it in quick, messy movements. To him, no, it has to have some meaning and he has to know he's ready.

Not that he has anything against casual sex but it's just…he isn't like that, he craves for something more.

Nikolai seems to read his mind, which has become a habit of his these days,

"Relax, we don't have to have sex…There are things to do,"

Alin cocks an eyebrow,

"Such as?"

The green eyed teen laughs out loud,

"Do I really need to fill you in on the details or…would you rather I show you?"

"Don't tell me you have experience with this too…Do you?"

The Bulgarian hesitates, a strange look coming over his face,

"No, I don't. I-I was with a man once, but…not in the way you might think,"

Alin's eyes widen in surprise, knowing how hard it was for Niko to even grasp the idea of them being together it seems downright insane to picture him with another man.

"We didn't have sex or anything…it was just a onetime thing in the bar,"

Popescu props himself on his elbows, there is something peculiar in the other's voice. He wants to delve into the subject, ask about more. But…there's the most puzzling feeling tugging at his heart strings, telling him not to press on.

Perhaps it's his intuition, signaling to him that he'll find the answers he's looking for soon enough.

"Since you're in the sharing mood," he begins, an inquisitive look over his face, "What about Ivan? How did you two meet?"

Nikolai hesitates for a moment too long but in the end he seems to decide he can trust him and begins to tell him.

 

**xxx**

 

_Somewhere along the road Nikolai realizes with the clarity of an early January morning that he has no reason to behave, no reason to hope for a better future._

_Though he doesn't grasp it fully, he has given up on himself. Even at the age of eleven he can realize society is split in two – the people who do matter, who are loved and taken care of and the ones who don't._

_And him and Radko, they fall into the second category._

_What point is there in trying to save yourself only to fail in the end? Isn't that the very definition of stupidity?_

_Nikolai stops trying and starts going downhill, finding it is much easier to go with the flow. Smoking and fighting and drinking and finds suit him nicely, almost like a missing piece of the puzzle. Alcohol is a quick and easy escape and by the looks of it, with him being Eastern European it is something that society all but expects from him._

It's funny how people live up to stereotypes and stereotypes live up to people _._

 

**xxx**

 

 _Niko isn't quite sure how it happens but at some point he and Radko have turned into all but a catastrophe for the orphanage. Teachers can barely tolerate them and they start hearing things such as "correctional facilities" and "places for_ the likes of them _"._

_The Bulgarian isn't sure why but he instinctively knows he does not want to go there. But he doesn't stop either, already too far down the road to self-destruction to change the course on his own._

_He barely remembers it but one night Radko rob some rich teen and get stupid drunk. On the next morning they wake up in the middle of an ally and Nikolai knows with certainty this is bound to cause trouble._

_"_ _Shit," he swears under his breath, pushing against the hangover and getting up, "Radko get your ass off the ground, we need to go back,"_

_"_ _Why, not like they give a fuck about us in the first place," the brunette grumbles but he does comply nonetheless._

_They do need food and shelter and the orphanage offers those at least._

_When they go back …there is the screaming and the punishment but there is something else besides the rage he finds in the teacher's eyes. They've have given up on them already, accepting them as one of those people you should just let go of, throw in the trash and move on with your life._

_They've made their mind and they're not planning to help._

_One of them, the one he gets a long a little better with as he used to be Elizaveta's friend, meets his eyes, a look of pure disappointment written behind blue orbs._

_"_ _This stops now." He declares and the green eyed kid is scared out of his mind because he has no idea what the correctional facility is going to be._

 

**xxx**

 

_In the end, faith is on his side, as it turns out there is no correctional facility. To everyone's shock they're getting adopted. Him and Radko, who everyone labels as the worst of all children are going to have a family and he's so shocked he doesn't even have the time to be happy._

 

**xxx**

 

"You've already guessed who it is, haven't you?" Nikolai asks as he meets Alin's eyes.

They're wide in surprise although logically thinking, he should have seen the twist all along.

 

**xxx**

 

_Nikolai ends up loving his new family. It's not the picture perfect version of the American dream, far from it. In fact most label it as hell but it's all he has._

_They're Russians which is the closest the orphanage could find as there aren't many Bulgarians or Serbians willing to adopt around. Plus Niko has the sneaking suspicion that the Braginski family only took them in so they would get the welfare checks._

_The family is like one of those walking clichés, an epitome of the poor and miserable emigrants who have lost sight of the American exceptionalism and have instead plunged into the deepest hell of society._

_There's his new dad - Igor who gets blind drunk each night and beats his wife and kids. It's cliché really but that too perhaps is to be expected._

_He stinks of vodka all the time and he is a criminal. The Bulgarian isn't sure why the USA is letting such people adopt but it probably has something to do with the fact they wanted to get rid of him and Radko._

_While Igor is a pure monster Elena – his adoptive mother – can't do much about it and falls into one of those grey areas between a victim and a co-conspirator. In the end of the day he can't be mad at her, for she too is suffering._

_Elena Bragisnka has a sad, melancholic smile on her face at all times, one as pale as her blond hair. Nikolai doesn't know what's wrong with her and it isn't until many years later that he learns words such as depression._

_In a strange way she reminds him of his own mother, who as he knows from picture was also blonde. But that's as far as him seeing her as a mother goes._

 

**xxx**

 

_What Nikolai does love about the family are his new siblings – Ivan, Katya and Natalya._

_Ivan is older than him, thirteen as he later finds out. The kid's tall and muscular and he can tell the entire neighbourhood (an it's bad one) is scared of him, even at this age. But the Bulgarian isn't. If anything there is something meek, something kind about the other boy that he immediately finds behind his pale blue eyes._

_Katya is one year younger than her sibling although even at twelve, there's that warm motherly air about her. And last there's Natalya._

_She's a little bundle of joy, looking too small and fragile even for her age. At first Nikolai is afraid to touch her, that's how delicate the little girl looks. He's horrified at the way neither Elena nor Igor take care of her and a sudden appreciation blossoms for his father who did everything to protect him, despite the harsh reality of Eastern Europe._

_At least there's Katya who always feeds and changes Nat and Ivan who sings songs to her in his clumsy way, maturing voice clashing against the silence of the house._

_Nikolai sings up for taking care of her the moment his green gaze falls over her navy one._

 

**xxx**

 

_The family speaks in Russian but he finds it surprisingly easy to learn it. It's similar to Bulgarian, unlike English which at this point he refers to as "the evil language" and has completely given up on learning it. He talks mostly to Ivan who agrees with him about that. They discuss games and make stupid jokes and like each other from the instant their eyes cross._

_It's lighthearted and simple and for the first time in years Nikolai feels like a kid again._

_But it's not all roses and cream as Igor wreaks havoc each day, broken bottles of vodka flying inches above their heads. It's Elena that carries the brunt of his anger but Ivan is also black and blue most of the time._

_As it turns out though their adoptive father isn't much of a fan of him and Radko either, especially not the Serbian._

_"_ _Could've at least taken a kid that's not covered in scars," he grumbles one day, voice thick and coarse._

_To Nikolai's utter shock Radko doesn't even argue, he merely looks down at his feet._

_He knows for sure it is only a matter of time before Igor turns to them as well and beats them up. He's not too scared of it, he's used to a beating and he knows the brunette is more than capable of taking one._

 

**xxx**

 

_"_ _You okay … I mean after what Igor said?" Niko asks the Serb later that night, when they're in bed._

_Through some cosmic sense of irony once again they share a bed since the Braginski can't allow for another._

_Radko shifts and comes closer to him which catches the Bulgarian off guard and he flinches away. The Serbian grabs at his shoulder, fingers digging in._

_"_ _You should call him dad, not Igor."_

_"_ _What? Are you fucking kidding me? The guy is not our dad and he's a monster!" Nikolai huffs but the other only tightens his grip on him._

_"_ _Listen to me," he grumbles as he sets his one remaining brown eye over his own green ones, "This is the only family we've got now. Our parents are fucking dead and I'm tired of you being too soft to deal with it."_

_Nikolai swallows, he wants to argue but the very thought of his parents makes his eyes water. He obviously hasn't let go and perhaps it's time he does._

_"_ _I am not going to let you screw this up for us," Radko deadpans in dark._

_"_ _I won't," the Bulgarian shoots back in an instant but it falls on deaf ears._

_"_ _Just so we're clear if you so much as make the smallest mistake and oppose Igor or Ivan…_ I will kill you _."_

_Nikolai knows he should be laughing or he should be rolling his eyes because they are eleven and the other is threatening him but he can't._

_Even at this age the Serbian is cruel and vicious and something tells him he is capable of doing unthinkable things._

_He meets Radko's glare and there is nothing but pure hatred in it._

_"_ _I'm not fucking joking. I will kill you," he repeats, in emphasis._

_Ivanov struggles with what to say next, in the end he sighs and opts to joke about it, like he always does._

_"_ _I like Ivan so much better than you anyway. Matter of a fact if anyone's getting kicked out, it's you."_

_Radko swears at him, then lets go and rolls over._

 

**xxx**

 

_It's a warm summer evening when it happens._

_Nikolai remembers the details with surprising clarity even when years have passed. He remembers the buzzing of mosquitos in the living room, the way the last sun rays paint the white walls a pleasant colour, something in between gold and pink, which he doesn't have a name for._

_Elena is cooking in the kitchen which is a pleasant surprise having in mind she doesn't get much out of the bedroom. Katya and Ivan are with her, helping out while Nat is pleasantly asleep upstairs._

_It's a quiet moment of peace, one which he chooses to enjoy while it lasts._

_Radko and him have just come back from outside, after playing volleyball for a while. It's a pleasant turn of events, finding out how many things they have in common. When they stop fighting for a second, they get along well and it's a nice feeling, albeit a strange one._

_"_ _Man, I'm fucking exhausted," the Serb grunts, swearing comes naturally and easy to both of them and the Braginski don't seem to mind, if anything they participate in it as well._

_"_ _It was a nice game," Niko comments although he doubts playing volleyball with two people counts as much._

_Radko nods at him and he is taken aback at the other, the way he acts nicely for a split second. He proceeds to lie down on the couch, not bothering to take off his sneakers. He leaves a dirty trail across the floor. The Bulgarian debates whether or not to tell him to clean it but then shrugs it off._

_Truth to be told he's never cared much about tidying up and he really doubts Elena would even notice. Not to mention he appreciated the short, rare moment of peace between him and the dark haired boy._

_Nikolai drops on the couch as well and takes a deep breath, closing his green eyes and soaking in the pleasant atmosphere of the summer evening. The breeze from the open window ruffles his hair and he inhales in the fresh air which bears a faint smell. It's a mix of a thousand things but in his mind he merely labels it as the smell of summer… A lazy smile tugs at his lips, he's always liked nice sounding words even if he's not a master of them._

 

**xxx**

 

_It's then that he hears the door open and swears under his breath. Igor is coming home. The man doesn't always spend the night with them, most often than not he's at some bar, getting stupid drunk and wasting his life with other people who do the same._

_"_ _Hell," Radko swears as well and their eyes cross, a knowing look in them._

_Igor stumbles back into the room, a stench of vodka following his every step._

_Niko shuts his eyes closed; he knows this is going to be a bad night. When the other gets home like this it means trouble for them._

_He's not entirely sure how it happens but he remembers that Igor suddenly gets furious, various profanities flying out of his mouth. He stares at the muddy trails the Serbian has left on the carpet and that seems to be the last nail to the coffin. He explodes before them and next thing he remembers Radko is on the ground._

_The Bulgarian tries to act tough but he can't help the scream that escapes his lips and pierces the quiet neighbourhood._

_Igor hits him as well and he can feel the blood trickling down his chin. He wants to fight badly, he even lands a hit on the taller man but he is much more powerful than him, even in his drunken state._

_It's then that Ivan flies into the room, getting them apart. Naturally Igor's anger transfers to the older boy and they quickly lock into a fight._

_Nikolai's eyes dart between Radko who barely manages to get off the ground and then Elena and Katya, both of whom are in tears already._

_"_ _Get them out of here," Ivan commands and he obeys, dragging the two women out of the room._

 

xxx

 

_That night Ivan is covered in blood. Broken nose, left eye swollen shut. Maybe even broken ribs. Nikolai's heart constricts in sympathy as he takes in the sight. At the very least Igor is gone for the night and that has to count as a silver lining._

_The blonde boy is sitting at the kitchen table, opening and closing his fist to estimate the level of damage. A faint whimper flies past his thin lips before he can stop it._

_The Bulgarian gasps at the sound, never before has he seen the older teen at a state like this. Braginski turns around abruptly, pale blue eyes widening in surprise when he sees him._

_The change in his behaviour is immediate. He tries to curve his lips into a smile, even when they're badly split. He tenses, tries to hide the pain he's in._

_"_ _How are you?" Ivan asks, genuine concern in his voice._

_"_ _You asking me that?" Nikolai exclaims, "You're beaten to bloody pulp and yet you're worried about me?"_

_"_ _Да,_ _"_ _the other says simply._

_The green eyed teen is caught off by the other, he needs a few moments to compose his thoughts. He can't believe it, the fact someone is worried about him, that someone cares._

_After his dad's death no one has. Not the people at the orphanage, not Radko who hates him. Not even Elisaveta since she did leave._

_"_ _I'm fine, my nose isn't even broken," he comments in a haste, mentally adding that the same couldn't be said about Ivan._

_He pulls up a chair and sits, leaning in against the table. They can't go to the living room as it is in shreds, pieces of broken furniture and bottles everywhere._

_"_ _And Radko?" the older teen asks, eyes closed, voice drenched in exhaustion._

_"_ _He's fine too, he's pretty used to getting his ass kicked."_

_Nikolai tries to cheer up the atmosphere but fails at it. The only thing stopping him from crying or getting angry and breaking something is his concern for the Russian. With all his heart, he wants to make him feel better, repay him for protecting them._

_"_ _Let me help you," he says quietly, moving in closer._

_Ivan takes a generous swig of vodka directly from the bottle, to numb the pain. He still can't help the hiss that flies past his lips._

_He then hands it over to him, a tiny bit of mischief flickering through bloodshot tired eyes,_

_"_ _Bulgarians like drinking too,_ _да_ _?"_

_"_ _Of course,"_

_"_ _Then drink, to steady your hands,"_

_The green eyed boy takes in the strong liquid, it doesn't taste all that good but it doesn't have to, they're just drinking to forget, not to actually enjoy it._

_Nikolai puts back the bottle on the table, almost empty. He takes a cotton swab and presses it against the throat of the bottle, wetting it. Then he raises a pale hand and gently swipes it over Ivan's split eyebrow._

_"_ _Извинявай_ _," he apologizes quickly but continuous with the job of fixing him, patiently washing away the blood from his face._

_The Russian catches his hand suddenly and cups it with his own, larger one. The small, unexpected contact makes Nikolai look up in surprise._

_Green eyes fall over blue ones and he can see the angst in his own mirrored in the other's._

_"_ _I'm the one who's sorry. Our family…My dad is utter shit and – we should have offered a better place for you, not a worse one…"_

_"_ _Don't say that!" the Bulgarian protests immediately, a spark of anger coming to his voice, "This is a better place! Sure Igor is… he is a monster but-but I have_ you _now."_

_Ivan's eyes widen in surprise, pupils contrasting against the icy ring of his iris like two large black dots. He then looks away because despite all the confidence he projects he's not used to compliments and doesn't know how to handle them. It's yet another similarity they share._

_"_ _How can you say that when I can't even protect you from him?" he asks, voice surprisingly small, clashing against his looks, his personality, everything about him, "I'm doing such a crappy job at being an older brother, I swear…"_

_"_ _Ivan!" Nikolai protests so loudly he manages to get his attention, pull him out of his own hell, "You've done a better job taking care of me than anyone has after dad died."_

_The Russian's blue eyes are filled with genuine gratitude and he squeezes his hand,_

_„_ _Спасибо,"_ _he replies, the soft word melting somewhere in the evening dusk._

_"_ _I'm the one who should be thanking you," the Bulgarian argues, he has no idea what Igor would have done to him if the older kid hadn't stepped in._

_"_ _Come on let's get you to bed," he adds, stretching out a hand._

_"_ _I can get there on my own," Ivan tries to assure, always scared of being a burden and trying to do things on his own._

_The minute he gets up he all but falls over on the table but Nikolai is quick, wrapping his hands around him protectively._

_"_ _I've got you," he offers, despite the fact it's pretty uncomfortable supporting the other as he is taller._

_He takes him to bed where Katya immediately pulls him into the gentlest of hugs, running pale hands through his hair and whispering soothing things in his ear, both to calm him and herself._

_Despite it all Nikolai finds himself smiling because even though it is a difficult family at the very least he has one._

 

**xxx**

 

Alin isn't sure what to say once the Bulgarian falls quiet, signaling then end of his story. What is there to say? Sorry that you had such a crappy childhood?

He does offer support though, he wraps a hand around the other and nuzzles his head over his chest. He laces their fingers together, never getting tired of the warm feeling the small gesture has.

"Sorry you had to go through all that alone," he comments, head buried over his chest.

"It's okay, shit happens," Niko grunts, trying to hide behind the smirk, "Plus I have Ivan and Katya and Nat too."

The Romanian opens his mouth to argue, point out just how bad Braginski. But… he bites his tongue, never voices those concerns. He finally realizes why the Bulgarian cares so damn much about the Russian. He's his family.

Alin though…he wants to protect him, wants to show him what a real family stands for. He's scared at the mere thought of it, how forgone he is in his feelings for the green eyed teen. Still…he can't help those emotions, the need to help him.

"You've got me now though," he points out, a serious expression behind his dark brown irises as he looks up to face him.

Nikolai's lips stretch into an appreciative smile, green orbs soaked in joy,

"That I do,"

They kiss once again, taking in the moment, the quiet atmosphere of the late December.

"And what about you, Alin?" Niko inquires, an interested crossing his features, "When am I going to find about your mysterious past in Romania?"

The shorter teen considers it for a few brief moments, he supposes he owes the other to share. It only seems fair, even if he's not all that proud or fond of his memories.

"Oh, come on, your childhood can't be any more fucked up than mine and Radko's," Nikolai jokes, a supportive look in his eyes.

"Yeah…well it's not." He admits, looking away, "It's pretty boring actually. And not all that pretty."

Ivanov smiles at him, raising a hand and gently brushing away a loose strand of his dyed hair,

"Who ever said I only liked pretty stuff? Pretty is overrated anyway,"

Alin reflects his warm smile, ready to begin telling him about his past, all the things he's hidden from others.

And…

It's then that the Bulgarian's phone rings and with an apologetic look he rolls over and takes it from the night shelf.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and then concern settles over his pale face. He swears softly under his breath in his mother tongue and Alin's heart constricts in worry.

"Ivan again?" he asks, wearily.

"Worse," Niko responds, "It's Radko, he texted SOS."

Alin's brown eyes widen in surprise,

"I know, it's strange that he would text me for help," the Bulgarian comments, already up on his feet.

"Wait, are you gonna go?" the shorter teen asks, slight panic poking through the edges of his words.

"Do I have a choice, Allie?"

"Yeah, you could just not go," the Romanian presses on, crossing his hands over his chest, "It could be dangerous. What if Radko's dealer or some shit is there to beat him up?"

Nikolai seems to take in the possibility, a small sigh flying past his lips,

"Then I have to help him,"

"Why?!" Alin cries out in exasperation, "Radko hates you! If it were up to him, you'd be dead!"

He regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth as hurt flickers through the Bulgarian's light eyes.

" _Да, знам,_ " he admits, matter of factly, "But I still… I can't just leave him."

Popescu shakes his head, realizing he can't stop him,

"You're just too good sometimes. And other times you're an asshole"

Nikolai grins at him,

"That's why you love me," he winks, then leans in, seals their lips one last time for a good bye,

"Just please be careful," the Romanian urges as he gets up to leave,

"You know I never am,"

Alin's expression darkens,

"That's exactly why I worry,"

 

**xxx**

 

Time seems to crawl at a snail's pace after Niko leaves. Alin is immensely worried, realizing he's read the last passage of the Fanfic he's subscribed to three times already and yet he doesn't realize a word of it.

In the end he puts his phone away, opts to go take a bath, in the vain hope maybe that way, time will pass a bit quicker.

 

**xxx**

 

When he returns he notices the screen of his phone flicker a green light in the darkness of his room. He rushes towards it, in the hope that Nikolai has called.

Unfortunately, it's not the Bulgarian, but rather Francis.

Alin raises a brown eyebrow in surprise – sure, he's had a few talks with the French but…why would he call him three times late in the evening? They didn't even have school the next day.

He doesn't think much of it as he hastily gets dressed. He still intends to call the blonde and his fingers curl around the phone.

It's then that the doorbell rings and Alin's heart jumps in anticipation. He leaves his phone behind and rushes towards the door.

When he opens his jaw nearly drops as he takes in the sight.

Nikolai leans in against the door, clothes torn, covered in blood. His face is already black and blue.

"Niko!" the Romanian cries out in horror as he takes in his looks, "What on Earth happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it! Yet another of those cliffhangers that I'm starting to be infamous for xD! Please share your thoughts on what you believe might have happened!
> 
> And also, what do you think of Niko's past? And yes, there will be Alin's flashbacks as well ^^
> 
> So any guesses on who beat up Nikolai? And why Francis called?
> 
> Please review, I love hearing from you all!


	18. Silver Lining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for missing updates! It's just that I started a new job and I've been pretty busy!
> 
> Warning: Chapter contains some controversial topics, so please read with caution. There will be graphic depiction of violence, as well as child abuse and heavy angst.
> 
> Strongly homophobic language. If you're easily affected by such themes, please be careful when going through the flashbacks (written in Italics).

 

**_Silver Lining_ **

 

Alin is hectic that night, dark brown eyes wide in horror as he takes in the beaten state Nikolai is in.

It's one of those moments when you just stare, unsure what to do. He feels frozen for a few lengthy moments before the scream tears away from his lips.

"What happened?!" he gasps, stepping in closer to his boyfriend, in an attempt to help.

Nikolai flinches, almost as if he's afraid he might hurt him. The Romanian shudders at the sight, something in his heart snaps when he sees the other so broken.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm down his breathing. He needs to get his act together, think straight.

What Ivanov needs is to have his injuries checked.

"I'll call for help," he says in a haste, fishing for his phone, hands trembling.

It's then that he feels the familiar strong hand over his arm,

"No, you won't." the Bulgarian all but deadpans, "There's no fucking way I'm going to a hospital."

"Why not?"

"Because they ask questions there."

Alin opens his mouth to protest but realizes the other does have a point. He sighs in defeat,

"Okay, let's take you inside then."

He supports Nikolai as best as he can, horrified by his injuries and careful not to jar them. He helps him sit at the couch, taking in the various bruises that litter the Bulgarian's pale skin.

Hastily googling his injuries and applying an ice pack made of frozen beans, his heart constricts in sympathy.

The Bulgarian doesn't say anything, green eyes set on something distant.

"What happened?" Alin asks once again, voice softer this time as he sits on the couch next to his boyfriend and takes in his right hand into his palm. His left fist is swollen, knuckles bloodied.

"Did-did Radko's dealer to this or something?" he wonders out loud, mind drawing various scenarios in thick, broad strokes.

Niko chuckles bitterly, breaking away from his catatonic state for the first time that evening.

"No, Radko did this himself,"

Popescu's entire being is filled with anger and disgust directed at the dark haired Serb. He's not a violent person, not by any means but he can't stop the images that flood his mind. The other needs to pay, and he'll see to it that he does.

There's something oddly horrible and disgusting in the fact the Serbian has lured Nikolai in by asking for help. He texted SOS, as if begging for assistance, only to fight the Bulgarian.

But Alin represses the desire for justice for the moment, he needs answers first and foremost.

"Why did you two fight?"

Ivanov looks away, light eyes full of resignation,

"Why do you think?" he scoffs, as if the answer should be obvious, "He fucking find out about us."

"What?!" Alin half shouts out, shock washing over him.

He has no issue with others knowing, hell if it was up to him they would. But he realizes it's dangerous for Nikolai, he grasps the kind of threat his family poses.

"How?" is all he can ask, voice small and weak.

 _"_ _How?"_ the Bulgarian snaps, looking up to him, "Your fucking buddy Francis blabbered his fat mouth, that's how!"

"Wait, what!?"

But then… when he thinks about it, sadly it makes sense. His mind starts putting the pieces together and they all fit together, fleshing out the bigger picture.

The three missed calls from Francis… The blonde must have called to warn him, he must have suspected some shit like this would happen…

"Francis told someone and now the whole fucking school probably knows if Radko of all people heard of it."

Why would the French tell anyone in the first place? Alin feels a pang of anger, mixed in with betrayal somewhere in his chest but he buries it down, for now.

At the moment, he has more pressing matters at hand, taking care of the other is the top priority. His dark brown eyes trail over Nikolai, full of worry and sympathy.

"You should see the other guy," Ivanov tries to joke but it falls flat, "Seriously though I taught that piece of shit a lesson."

The Romanian attempts to smile but it's no use. Radko deserves to be sent in a correctional facility. No amount of getting beaten up is going to change him and he must be held accountable for his actions.

"Don't look like that," Niko grunts, "I'm not gonna die or some shit. Probably just a few broken ribs. Nothing to be scared about."

Alin wants to argue because he's terrified but he merely nods and jumps into further action.

The Bulgarian guides him in his ministrations. He tells him how to apply take care of the injuries and how to do the bandages just right. The Romanian realizes just how many times he must have been in this situation – being taken care of after a fight, or stitching up Ivan.

It makes him shudder but he scatters those thoughts away, he'll have to deal with them one day, just not today.

He gently wipes the blood off his eyebrow, mindful of the contact when a small hiss flies pass the lips of the other,

"I'm sorry," he mutters, "For this and for telling Francis. If I hadn't this would have never happened,"

"Don't be, he would've found out anyway I guess."

Alin looks up, meeting his eyes in surprise. He sees determination in those green irises he has come to love.

But it's then that he thinks of something that sends chills down his spine,

"Was Ivan part of this too?"

Because if he is, they're both in trouble. Alin knows Radko is a sadist and a monster that needs to be held in check but at least he's not as strong as Ivan. If the Russian knows about them, the situation is a thousand times worse.

Nikolai takes his head in his hands and then offers a small shake, no.

"Radko…he won't tell him."

Alin cocks an eyebrow, surprised by the fact,

"Why would he do that? Makes no sense…"

The Bulgarian snickers, the sound bitter on his lips.

"He would never do anything fucking nice for me…" he points out, "Hell, the only reason I'm alive now is probably because he knows Ivan would be mad if he were to kill me…"

Popescu opens his mouth to argue, offer comfort, say that's not true.

But it is.

The Serbian absolutely despises him, it's just a fact. There is no point in arguing it.

"Though…if Ivan finds out I'm Bi…well, maybe he would want me dead as well."

Nikolai's voice breaks, a shell of what it normally is. Alin's heart sinks to the floor as he hears those words.

The Bulgarian is a wreck, tears pricking in his eyes. It breaks something in Popescu to see him this way. He can't even imagine having to deal with his own family hating him for being gay.

Well…his own father _would_ probably hate him for it, had he stuck around long enough to find out.

But Niko though…he has to deal with it, has to live with the burden of knowing the only people who care about you are quick to reject you, kick you the curb the minute they find out there's something in you they don't find good or _right._

That's not entirely true though, the Bulgarian isn't alone, has him. A wave of determination washes over Alin - one way or another he'll fight for the boy, no matter what it takes.

"Hey," he begins, scooping closer to him, "Don't you dare think you're alone in this. Because you're not, you have me."

Niko nods but still doesn't speak up, as if he's not secure enough in himself to believe him.

"You have me and mum and Sorina," he continues, "And we can be your family, so long as you want to,"

"I do," the Bulgarian mutters, conviction behind the words, "But I shouldn't. I'm a fuck up, Alin! Everyone I go near to ends up pushing me away!"

The Romanian shakes his head no,

"Look you've had a bad childhood and mine wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either but…our whole lives are ahead of us. There's something hopeful about that, isn't there?"

Nikolai looks away and Alin can see the desire in his eyes to believe him. But there is hesitation too, as if he's asking him to jump of the rail and the boy isn't quite sure if he'll catch him.

"And just cause Radko is a damn monster and Ivan lives in the 15th century when it comes to his beliefs…That, that doesn't mean everyone will judge you or hate you."

The taller teen sighs and he can feel some of the tension melt away from him.

They stay in silence for a few long moments and Alin starts thinking, he starts putting up a plan. Seeing the other broken – it has triggered something in him, awakened something that was buried deep down his mind. Determination sprouts in his chest and he knows he has to act.

"But, Niko…" he begins, voice gentle but words full of conviction, "You can't stay there. I get that you care about Ivan and you think he saved you or whatever…but Radko could kill you next time."

The Bulgarian opens his mouth to argue, to assure him no doubt that's not true but the words die on his lips.

"This…this isn't the first time this has happened," he admits in the end, voice small and barely above a whisper, a leftover of what it usually is.

 

_xxx_

 

_Nikolai is fifteen when it happens. He's working at the bar, with Ivan and Katya by his side and Radko being an endless idiot._

_It's still a pleasant routine, something that grounds him like an anchor in a sea of turmoil. He enjoys serving the bar, takes odd pleasure in mixing different kinds of liquids together until they produce the desired result._

_What he loves the most though is the people. The various customers he chats with, the way they tell him their stories, let themselves be vulnerable and real after the third glass of cheap vodka._

_For the past few months he's gotten closer to one of the customers, a guy from Bulgaria. Nikolai is ecstatic to have someone from his motherland, it has been so long since he's last seen a compatriot._

_Sure Radko and Ivan are a pretty close thing but never quite the same._

_The guy's name is Dimitar, a tall and good looking guy from Ruse. Seventeen, almost eighteen as the summer is fast approaching._

_He's hot in that Eastern European fashion Nikolai can suppose – face a little red, light blue eyes sparkling with mischief all the time and dirty blonde hair._

_Dimitar, or_ Mitko _, as he asks everyone to call him is all laughs and jokes most Americans would deem offensive as hell. He drinks like a pro, the only one who can compete with him and Ivan._

_Still…there is something different about him that Niko can't quite put his finger on. It's almost as if the guy is hiding a secret…not in a bad way, just as if he's not revealing everything about himself to the world._

_Like wearing a mask…yeah that's what it is. And sometimes, when they're really drunk the mask slips down a little and he can see a portion of who he really is._

_Nikolai likes him, he's easy going and fun to have around and he's pretty sure Dimitar feels the same. There are times when his blue eyes linger over him, as if searching for the answer of a question he doesn't dare ask out loud._

 

_xxx_

 

_Ivan and Radko on the other hand despise the guy from the moment they meethim. Niko can understand why the Serb hates him – after all he hates ALL Bulgarians, no exceptions._

_But Ivan though… it doesn't make sense. When he asks the older boy he only offers vague answers,_

_"_ _There's something wrong with the guy, I can feel it," Braginski replies, pale blue eyes squinted in contempt._

_Nikolai shrugs it off, not like he has to agree on everything with the Russian._

 

_xxx_

 

_It's a warm evening in late May when Dimitar shows up and has one drink too many._

_The bar is quiet, it's Monday so there aren't many people to show up. The few customers are already passed out drunk, clinging onto vodka bottles in their sleep as they murmur nothings in native tongues._

_Ivan is completely out of it, drifting off on one of the tables as Katya shakes her head over him in worry and resignation. Radko is missing and for that Niko is glad, at least the Serbian won't be starting a fight. For now._

_What happens…it all happens in a flash._

_One moment Dimitar leans in towards him, catches his hand. There is a questioning look in his blue eyes, one that asks for permission._

_And Niko nods. On instinct, without thinking it though._

_He does it purely out of want and maybe need. There's this deep desire hidden somewhere inside him. He doesn't think about it, doesn't act on it. But now…now when the other is so close he can no longer suppress it._

_He doesn't know why but he does what he does. There's no logical explanation to it. He's liked the guy and he's drunk himself, his actions softer around the edges, vision a little blurry._

_Drunk and high, never a good combination. But Radko has insisted they do it and he has agreed, the way he always lets him drag him into trouble._

_Dimitar then kisses him, a harsh and sudden gesture, chapped lips colliding with his own._

_He feels the familiar burn of alcohol on his tongue, something he's sure he tastes of himself. And from then on…he doesn't even remember most of it, except he ends up in the bathroom with Dimitar's hands all over him._

_"_ _Never been with a man before?" the older Bulgarian demands and Niko shakes his head no on autopilot._

 _"_ _It's…it's wrong to be with a guy," he manages to say, words Ivan has said a million times having become ingrained in his brain._

 _"_ _I…" Dimitar pauses, blue eyes soaked in fear, "_ _Знам, знам…_ _* but…I, I – just I want it so much…don't you?"_

_Nikolai takes him in, his looks, the emotion behind those eyes. He does want it and so he nods._

_The blue-eyed Bulgarian takes it from there, shortening the distance between them and kissing him once again, this time deeper. Their movements are desperate, hopeless, out of time. There never could be a time for them, people like them don't get to do this._

_Nikolai realizes there are plenty of gay or bi men over the world who are proud and free and have no issue showing the world who they are…But those men are American and English or German or Italian…Never Bulgarian or Russian, never Eastern European._

_They're not allowed to do this, their own societies would have them beaten up black and blue for it. But he does want it, he wants it for just that one time._

_The kiss is hot and wet and it makes him turned on, having Dimitar pine him against the wall._

_He doesn't love him, no not at all. Maybe he doesn't even know him. He just wants this short lived moment of pleasure so bad it almost hurts to think about walking away._

_His hands dive under his T-shirt and explore the smooth, pale skin,_

_"_ _Feels good, right?"_

 _"_ _Да,_ _"_ _Nikolai pants out and-_

_The door opens. Ivanov's heart slams against the floor hard as he meets Radko's gaze._

_The Serbian is drunk out of his mind but he sobers up in seconds, the shock burning away the alcohol haze and replacing it with pure rage._

_Nikolai has known him a long time and he knows he's downright evil but this…Never before has he expected to see the other so blinded by anger._

_Radko screams and swears and he can' make out what he's saying. Before he even realizes what's going on he forces Dimitar against the wall so hard Niko can't be sure he doesn't crack his skull._

_And he punches him over and over and_ over _again._

_There's so much blood in mere seconds and all Ivanov can do at first is scream. It takes a few seconds for him to sober up, for his instincts to kick in. After the initial shock and shame he jumps in, praying Radko away from the other Bulgarian._

_He pulls him off Dimitar but at that point the blonde is already on the ground, face covered in blood._

_Katya rushes in with a scream, covering her mouth as she takes in the scene,_

_"_ _What the fuck were you doing, you fucking gay freak?!" Radko demands, kicking the fallen Bulgarian,_

 _"_ _Radko, stop it, he's already down!"_

_The brunette boy turns around, brown eye burning with an odd mix of rage, hatred and disgust._

_"_ _And you!?" the Serbian's one remaining eye widens in what might be disappointment, "Why the fuck didn't you stop him!? Are you honestly this fucking drunk or high…"_

_Nikolai manages to take deep breath, trying desperately to calm himself. His green eyes dart between the lying Dimitar, barely conscious and Radko who shakes him hard before throwing him against the wall,_

_"_ _Fucking answer me!" he demands,_

_Before he has the time to respond Radko hits him so hard he almost doubles down,_

_"_ _You couldn't fight or-or…Why the fuck were you kissing a fucking man!?" the Serbian goes on, blinded by his rage._

 _"_ _I…I, just-I"_

 _"_ _What's going on?"_

_It's Ivan that asks, leaning in against the door frame, apparently having just woken up from all the commotion. At first he doesn't seem too shocked or affected but then he seems to grasp the situation._

_His pale blue eyes widen at the scene before him. He doesn't seem surprised or worried about Dimitar lying down on the floor but he does gasp at Radko who holds Nikolai against the wall in a death grip._

_"_ _Radko, what are you doing to Nikolai?!" he demands, marching to separate them._

_The Serbian doesn't let go, he only tightens his grip on him, for once ignoring Ivan._

_Nikolai wants to fight and he knows he_ can _fight the other, he's just as strong if not stronger. But…he can't, not right now. His head spins with so many emotions, his thoughts a train wreck. His heart slams against his chest so loudly he feels as though it might be louder than the screaming. He can't even breathe all that well and he doesn't know what's happening._

_Is he dying? Maybe a panic attack…he read about those once._

_Radko's cold fingers are on his neck, demanding answers, literally strangling the truth out of him._

_The Bulgarian chokes, black spots dancing over his vision. There's a tiny part of his mind that's afraid he might die then and there, he knows Radko is capable of it._

_"_ _I said fucking answer me what you were doing with that fag!"_

_It seems to be the final straw when he chokes for air, unable to speak._

_Ivan moves in quickly and tears them apart, pushing Radko away so hard the Serbian stumbles over the bathroom floor. He lands on his ass, a thick line of swears escaping his lips._

_Nikolai slides down the wall, next to Dimitar who's barely conscious. At the very least he's alive, even if badly beaten up. And as horrible as it is, this has to be some silver lining._

_The green eyed teen gasps for air, feeling up his bruised neck._

_"_ _What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Ivan demands at Radko, "You were going to fucking kill him if I hadn't walked in!"_

_The Bulgarian manages to breathe in but he still can't gather the strength to speak._

_"_ _He's your damn family, we can't allow to fight like this, Radko!" the Russian snaps, voice resonating all over the bar,_

 _"_ _I've always fucking hated him, it'd be better if I killed him!" the Serb shoots back, his features distorted in pure rage._

 _"_ _We're a family whether we like it or not!" the Russian snaps, voice so loud and assertive it leaves no room for hesitation, "If we don't support each other, we'll fucking die in this stupid country that hates us!"_

_Niko shudders at the words, taken aback yet again at how much Ivan cares, how much he clings onto the idea of family._

_Would he…would he still care if he knew the truth? That he is Bi?_

_That he enjoyed kissing another man? That he's thought about it before, pictured himself with Dimitar and other men when he was drunk and his imagination could no longer be kept under control?_

_"_ _And you…Nikolai, what the fuck happened?" Ivan demands, blue eyes searching for answers._

_The Bulgarian all but whimpers when he stretches out a hand, afraid he would hit him. He's weak, pathetic even. But…he just can't handle the thought of Ivan throwing him out, leaving him. Hating him the way Radko does._

_"_ _Ivan, he's just really drunk and high, I don't think he knows what he's doing," Katya comes to his rescue, words almost drowned out by the panic in her voice, "I mean look at him…he doesn't even know where he is."_

_Niko can't argue with that, head spinning, heart beating in his chest so hard he feels as though it might run out. Blood trickles down his face and breathing is still hard._

_Ivan pauses, taking a good look at him._

_"_ _Jesus, how much did you drink?" he shakes his head, "Did you take something too?"_

 _"_ _Д-да,_ _"_ _Nikolai manages to croak out, mind flying back to what they did with Radko._

 _"_ _I gave him some," the Serbian admits, having calmed down a little._

_The Russian nods and suddenly all the tension seems to melt away from his face. The change in him is immediate, as if he's just been assured everything will be okay. Pale lips turn into a smile as he shakes his head,_

_"_ _No more drugs for you then," Ivan proclaims as blue eyes fall over green, "I swear you look so out of it, no wonder that fucking fag had his way with you,"_

_Nikolai does want to argue, with all his heart and mind he does. Because honestly, Dimitar didn't force himself onto him, he's not a victim. Instead…he's just a freak, an abomination._

_His own people would hate him for it. His own family should be disgusted and ashamed, they should throw him out without a second thought._

_He hangs his head in shame, maybe he does deserve all the hatred Radko has for him if he likes men…If he's, he's turned on by them._

_It's a sin, it's wrong._

_He deserves Ivan to hate him too, kick him out, never speak to him again. And he's ready to take it, whatever beating the Russian throws at him._

_"_ _Ivan…I," he begins, mustering up the courage to admit it, even if it's the last thing he does,_

 _"_ _Shhh, don't speak," Katya steps in, crouching next to him, soothing hands over him, "We get it, you're sorry, but you were just really out of it, right?"_

_He meets the girl's pale blue, washed out eyes. They're full of desperation and he realizes she's begging him to lie._

_He doesn't want to, he wants to say the truth, for once._

_"_ _Please Niko," Katya whispers in his ear, words drenched in desperation._

_He can't say no to her, he can't leave her. If he gets kicked out…who knows what Radko could do? Would Ivan always be there to stop him?_

_The girl's fingers curl around his and he realizes there's no way he's telling the truth._

_Nikolai nods, scattering away their doubts._

_Ivan looks immensely relieved, almost as if Nikolai has just come back from the dead._

_He probably has._

_But now…now everything is okay, he's back to being part of the family, all because of a lie. The Russian buys it immediately, the cheap excuse, the reassurance that he hasn't lost him. That it was just a bad combo of alcohol and drugs. Ivan would rather have him as an alcoholic or a drug addict than as Bi._

_He would rather have him dead that that._

_"_ _Don't ever do something like this again," Braginski admits, squatting next to him._

_He stretches out a large hand and runs in down his cheek. He brushes his hair lovingly as Nikolai whimpers. He probably doesn't deserve any of this if he likes men._

_Nonetheless Ivan pulls him into a strong hug and he can see the Russian is shaking._

_"_ _I love you all so much, okay," he admits, "So please, don't ever do this."_

 _"_ _I won't, I won't," the Bulgarian is quick to promise, "I-I won't."_

 

_xxx_

 

Alin takes in what the other says and it's the final nail to the coffin. With determination he's never had in his life before he tells him,

"There's no fucking way I'm letting you go back to that house."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…yeah, I wasn't joking when I said the relationship between Serbia and Bulgaria will be bad. From what I've read about the two countries, the real life situation is actually much worse.
> 
> And the homophobia thing in Serbia as well as Russia and the rest of Eastern Europe is true as well by the way.
> 
> Did you enjoy the chapter? How many of you guessed it would be Francis that spilled the beans? Do you think Radko is redeemable?
> 
> Next chapter – we'll finally hear more about Alin's past! And Francis will have to do some explaining…
> 
> Please review, share your thoughts on the chapter and guesses about what might come!


	19. Romanian Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I am so sorry for not updating for so long! I was busy but hopefully once all my exams are over I will have much more time for the stories I love writing! For now though - enjoy the chapter!

**_Chapter 19: Paint the World Black_ **

 

That night they lay in bed together, a little apart as not to jar Niko’s injuries. The Romanian’s dark brown eyes trail over the ceiling, restless.

Ivanov is about to fall asleep, always a good sleeper. But he knows Alin isn’t and so with some effort he manages to turn around, give him a good, studying look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one who’s pouting?” he attempts to joke but it doesn’t elicit the right reaction.

The shorter teen switches to his side, then curls long, skinny fingers around his.

“It’s just that…how can you even handle all this?” he asks, voice small, “I can’t- I can’t believe there are people like Radko in this world.”

The atmosphere between them shifts and a thick sigh flies past Nikolai’s lips.

“So full of hatred, of prejudice. Wanting to paint the entire world black, so it fits with the one inside their heads.”

The Bulgarian puts one hand over his shoulder, a reassurance,

“Look, yeah the world is full with some pretty fucked up people…But that doesn’t take away from all the good ones, does it?”

Alin chuckles but it sounds a little forced, even to his own ears,

“Your skewed version of optimism is one of a kind,”

Niko’s grins, as best as he can, having in mind his lips are still swollen,

“ _I_ am one of a kind,”

The Romanian snorts,

“Can’t argue with that, _can I_?”

It’s better like this when they joke around, injecting lightheartedness in their relationship, bright tones that contrast sharply against the black.

“Allie,” the green eyed boy begins, voice so soft that Alin doesn’t protest against the silly nickname,

There’s a pause, an unspoken hesitation in his words and then,

“Could you tell me about your past? Like what you did back in your motherland and shit.”

The Romanian stiffens as he hears the words and gulps hard… can he?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Ivanov is quick to assure, taking his silence as a refusal, “It’s just that…would be nice to know more about you. About what it was like in Romania…”

Nikolai’s voice trails, Slavic accent as strong as ever now that he’s sleepy and drowsy.

Alin meets his eyes, the green seems a little on the grey side in the dim lighting that stems from the street lamps. But he finds no trails of judgment in those eyes, only a silent plea to let him in.

And he does.

xxx

 

Alin realizes most people have a certain idea about Romania, much like any other country. The stereotypical portray, like in _The Simpsons_ is of a poor place with unhappy people, like an old photo retouched with the grey filter.

_But,_ as his heart is quick to object - that is not the case.

Romania is a beautiful place, one which you can easily fall in love with. And he does love his motherland, although he only realizes it once it’s so far away from him it almost feels like a piece of memory from a past life.

Nostalgia is like a thick beige blanket, wrapped around him all the time, suffocating him in its warmth.

When Niko asks him about his past, he knows he should tell him. Out of the two, surprisingly enough he’s the one who hasn’t shared, who still hasn’t dismantled the walls that surround him.

But he wants to and not just because he owes it to him. No, there is the _need_ to tell him, to finally reveal himself before another person and not just the version he likes to present before the world.

_xxx_

_It’s not that his childhood is all_ that _bad, there’s certainly much, much worse. He’s always had his mother on his side, who’s one of the best people he’s ever known – smart and kind and always there to offer a helping hand._

_His grandparents are all the support he needs at times. Wise but still smiling all the time, dealing with the hardships while appreciating every moment of joy._

_And then there is his father, the odd one out._

_When Alin was a small kid, he never blamed his dad, rather always himself._

_It wasn’t his dad’s fault that he was a weirdo._

_He didn’t like playing sports or getting into fights, you know the_ normal _things. The boy things. The things that had the blue stamp of approval, the ones that were deemed okay by society._

_Rather he would be drawing, collecting things and burying his nose in books about fairies and dragons and vampires. It’s something Sorina has taken up as well but that is normal, that is acceptable for girls._

_For Alin though…not so much. He’s always liked things which fell slightly out of the sphere of what others saw as good, as right, as_ normal _._

 

xxx

 

_“Daddy, look, I drew you a picture!” Alin beams, proudly presenting a white sheet of paper, with what looked like a house with a pointy roof. Much later he would learn about architecture but for now all he knows is he likes going around town with his mum and sketching the buildings._

_His father turns around, cold dark eyes falling over his own, completely skipping the picture._

_“I told you to go play outside with the others,” he grunts, “Like a normal kid,”_

_The child gulps but he waves away the accusations too young to realize words leave a mark,_

_“But dad, I don’t like playing with the others,” Alin whines, “I like drawing!”_

_His father glares at him, a bout of determination flickers through his dark eyes. He stretches out a large hand and snags the piece of paper out of his hands._

_He lets out a cry and stomps his foot,_

_“I told you to go outside and play!” the older Romanian shouts, “Enough with the weird crap, Alin!”_

_The small boy gulps, salty tears already pricking in his eyes._

_‘But I-“_

_His father slaps him and he’s so taken aback, he falls back flat on his ass, brown eyes wide in shock._

_He doesn’t even register the pain at first, it’s only later that he feels the mark of his dad’s fingers over his cheek._

_“Get out!” the older man barks and he quickly pushes against the panic, scrambles to his feet and flies out of the house._

 

_xxx_

 

_His mother and father fight a lot these days._

_Alin tries to ignore the shouts and even the swears and replace them with something else. There’s a version of the world inside his head, a more beautiful, peaceful version. He clings onto it so hard that sometimes it all but replaces reality._

_But one day reality hits him in a train wreck as he learns the truth._

_He’s always wondered why his parents fought – it wasn’t for money or out of jealousy or the other stuff grown-ups usually fought about._

_It’s about him._

_The truth has probably always been there, just underneath the surface but Alin was too scared to pull away the curtain and see what was going on._

_“I’m telling you there is something wrong with our son!”” his father shouts that day, thick voice tearing through the peaceful silence of the Romanian evening._

_“Keep your voice down, Allie might here you!” his mother is quick to point out._

_“He’d better! I’m not going to stand around and watch him as he turns into-into some freak!”_

_The word is so strong that Alin feels like it hurts worse than the slap._

_Tears well up in his eyes and he clasps one hand over his mouth, desperate not to make a sound._

_“Don’t you dare say that!” his mum’s voice is now determined, harsh, full of conviction, “There is nothing wrong with our son and he is perfectly fine the way he is!”_

_Alin doesn’t even hear the last words, he runs back to his room, assured there’s something wrong with him already._

 

_xxx_

 

_Despite all the fights, his mother gets pregnant. Alin is happy not only because he’ll get to have a sister but also because maybe this way his father would finally get a kid he likes._

 

_xxx_

 

_And he does, his father is tender and sweet with Sorina in a way he never was with him. The baby’s smile is enough to brighten the whole house and Alin can’t pull out the weeds of jealousy as they sprung up somewhere deep in his chest._

_Still, the love his dad has for Sorina does nothing to melt the hatred that is reserved for him._

_As the years pass the relationship between his parents deteriorates and Alin can’t help but blame himself. Still, in the end he can do nothing to fix them and changing himself feels like a last resort he’ll run up to some day._

 

_xxx_

 

_It’s one snowy December night that things finally fall apart for the Popescu family. His father never drinks, except that night he does. Sparks ignite and the two adults are quickly locked into a fight._

_But it’s different this time, this time his father is truly angry, looking like nothing short of a madman._

_Alin is usually a quiet kid, he prefers to stay away from danger. At that time however, when he sees his father shout profanities at his mother something in him snaps._

_He moves on autopilot, not even realizing what he’s doing. He jumps in between them, desperate to protect her from his words. He lashes out at him, bears his teeth like a dog,_

_“Get away from mummy!”_

_The words echo through the cozy apartment, straight into the neighbour’s ears. Not that they would ever intervene – no one ever does. Domestic abuse is nothing short of an unpleasant topic everyone pretends not to notice, turns their head away._

_The older Romanian is so shocked at first, at him acting temperamental. Alin vaguely wonders if perhaps he likes it. But then he gets his answer as a strong hand hits his cheek, slapping him so hard he falls back. He hits his head at the table but the adrenaline is so strong in his system, he doesn’t even register the dull pain at first, nor the taste of metal in his mouth._

_His father has slapped him before, a handful of times. But never like this. The small boy can feel blood at the tip of his tongue and raises one skinny hand to feel up his burning cheek._

_For a second his father steps back, dark eyes wide in shock as his brain processes the actions. Regret flashes through his irises or so it seems, Alin never gets to learn if he saw that or imagined it._

_Before he knows what’s going on, he hears the door slam hard and with that he vaguely registers he’s not getting an answer._

_All he knows is he is not good enough to make him stay or perhaps he’s the entire reason his father is leaving._

 

_xxx_

 

_The next morning his father is gone._

_Alin doesn’t grasp why but something in him tells him he’s gone forever._

_On the table in the living room he finds a stack of pristine white papers, DIVORCE written in bold black letters._

_He’s a smart kid, he knows the word but it still takes him a few long moments to realize what it means._

_Not in general, like in the dictionary, but for_ them _, their own family. Himself._

_“Oh, Allie,” his mother says softly from somewhere behind him._

_The small boy quickly turns around and meets her large, dark brown eyes, a mirror of his own._

_“I’m so,_ so _sorry,” he utters over and over again until his words become lump together, one incoherent noise of regret._

_His mum seems surprised at his words, as if he’s not making any sense._

_“What for honey?” she asks but he can’t answer, tears trickling down his face already._

_She pulls him into a warm hug, running delicate fingers down his shoulder length hair._

_“Mummy and daddy just couldn’t get along anymore,” she explains, voice leveled, calm and secure. An anchor to his world._

_She sounds the way she did when he was a little kid, when she sang him songs to bed and always made sure to come up with a different fairytale each night. Alin knows he’s too old for this type of things but oddly enough he finds comfort in them, a sense of security filling up his heart as he realizes a part of it is already missing._

_His mother’s love is like an anchor that holds them grounded, assures the now broken family they’ll get through the storm._

“Because of me,” _Alin finishes her sentence and he can almost taste the bitterness of the thought, “He left because of me.”_

_He attempts to say it out loud but the words die on his lips. He can’t tell her as some small part of him still clings onto the hope that maybe she won’t realize it._

_That she won’t understand that it is his fault their marriage fell apart. Because if she does, he knows she’ll hate him. Maybe even leave too._

 

_xxx_

 

_They move in with his grandparents after that._

_Alin enjoys the quietness of the countryside, the crisp, fresh air he inhales every morning._

_Sorina loves it from the day they set foot there. She feeds the chickens, pets the stray cats and cuddles the bunnies all day long. She spends the time picking flowers and braiding them into little crowns, with the help of their grandmother. She dries up the petals and adds them to her drawings, a true artist even in kindergarten._

_His mother seems to like it well enough as well, although Alin has the sneaking suspicion she pretends from time to time. He catches a glimpse of her melancholy when she thinks no one is looking. One night he finds her running through old, worn out photos with happy faces._

_Of her, of his father._

_Guilt follows Alin’s every step, it’s like a fog that clouds his mind and makes everything around dull, almost like part of a dream._

 

_xxx_

 

_“Why don’t you have a dad?” it’s one of the village boys that asks, voice gruff, eyes demanding answers. He’s surrounded by a whole bunch of kids and feels as though he’s today’s village attraction – the weirdo who came from town and has no friends._

_He doesn’t fit in, like a weed in a carefully put together garden where all the flowers look the same._

_Alin stares at his feet for a while but the others’ gazes never leave him._

_“You deaf or some shit?” another one demands, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to look up._

_“Mum and dad are divorced,” he mumbles in the end, knowing he has to satisfy their curiosity before they run out of patience._

_“Why?” a girl asks, mean blue eyes squinted into two inquisitive slits._

_“I bet your mother cheated on him like a dirty whore!” one of the boys cackles and the entire groups erupts into laughter._

_Something in Alin snaps and without thinking he barks back,_

_“Don’t you dare say that about her, you idiot!” he screams, surprised by the intensity of his own voice._

_From then on it’s the usual cliché scenario, the other children getting mad and beating him up._

_Alin lies on the ground, curled into a ball. A small puddle of blood around him, clothes torn apart. He can feel his nose throb, his lip split._

_Worst part of it is he can hear his father’s voice, the_ “I told you so,” _which never comes because he’s not even around to say it. He’s left a long time ago._

_Somewhere, deep in his chest or at the back of his mind there’s a part of him that genuinely believes he deserves this._

_And he must do something to change himself._

 

_xxx_

 

_It’s the beginning of spring that Alin choses to cut his hair._

_He read in one of his mother’s magazines that women like men with short hair while men respect other men more if it’s cut short. It sounds silly, maybe even stupid but his childish brain clings on to the hope that maybe it could stop the bullying._

_He wants others to like him, he craves attention, the validation he has never received._

_So… maybe if he cuts it short then, well, maybe then he would find friends. It doesn’t hurt to try, does it?_

_He stares at his own reflection, no bruises thankfully. It’s only after his mother marches to the school and demands for better treatment that the others stop with the abrupt beatings._

_Now they’re more skilled, hitting him where they know it won’t show as much. Or where Alin can hide it, in some vain attempt to save his family (what is left of it) the trouble. And himself – the crumbles of dignity._

_He runs a hand through his hair, one last time._

_He loves it - straight and smooth, going past his shoulders at this point. The only thing he likes about himself, even if it’s a dull brown colour, nothing like his sister’s soft blonde._

_But it has to go. He’ll look better without it, or if not better than at least_ normal _, like all the other boys in the village. The normal boys whose dads are there with them, who don’t get called freaks._

_He cuts his hair with the scissors his grandfather uses to cut the vines since he couldn’t find any others, nearly cutting his hand in the process._

_Brown locks fall to the ground, creating a mess but Alin tries not to look at them he just keeps going._

_“Alin what on Earth are you doing?!” it’s his grandfather’s strong voice that breaks him away from the task._

_He drops the scissors on the ground and the small clink resonates through the room._

_A few seconds pass and he meets his grandpa’s eyes, reading the confusion in them._

_“Uh…cutting my hair?” he tries, putting on the fake smile, one which he knows reassures most and makes people forget any questions they have._

_Not his grandpa though as he cocks and eyebrow, face locked in doubt,_

_“But you love your hair, Allie,”_

_Alin looks away, that much it true. It’s soft and shiny and he likes to run his fingers through it, makes him feel good about at least one tiny fraction of himself. But it needs to go if it’s going to make others hate him a little less._

_“Nah, I don’t. It looks…girlish.”_

_“And what’s wrong with that?” the older Romanian counters, sitting on the bed and patting the empty space next to himself for him to come over and sit._

_Alin sighs, “Others don’t like it.” He pauses for a second, ”Dad didn’t like it.”_

_The older man’s eyes fill with rage for a split second, that’s the effect his son in law has on him. But the storm passes as quickly as it came and his lips stretch into a small, comforting smile,_

_“Allie, if you’re gonna spend your life doing what others like, you may as well do nothing at all.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I mean that you can never be who others want you to be. You being…well, different, that’s not a bad thing, it’s just who you are. And you’ll have to learn to live with it.”_

_The child tries to accept the advice, somewhere deep in his heart he can feel this is the truth. But his mind refuses to admit it, wants a better answer, an easier solution._

_“But will there be anyone willing to live with me the way I am?” he says, voice small, “Even my own father left me.”_

_He feels his grandpa’s strong hand on his shoulder and when he looks up he sees nothing but determination in the old man’s eyes._

_“Your father left because he’s a piece of shit.”_

_Alin is taken aback at the swearing, usually the elder never swears, always makes sure to be eloquent and polite. And yet the sheer strength behind the words is what shocks him the most._

_“He left because he wasn’t strong enough to have a family or because he was too stubborn in his own beliefs to accept you as you are,’ the older Romanian continues, “But don’t you_ ever _think it was your fault, Alin. You are perfectly fine the way you are.”_

_Alin holds his gaze, takes in his word and nods in the end. Nothing has really changed, the bullies are still there, waiting for him. And he still has no friends…and yet, somehow he feels a little different, a little better._

_“Now that we’re done with the sentimental part,” his grandfather says, “Let me finish the haircut or you risk looking like someone the hairdresser has a grunge against.’_

_Alin chuckles at the words, his heart feeling light and free._

_“Thanks, grandpa,” he tells him and the other merely grins at him, pulling him onto his feet and taking the scissors back._

 

_xxx_

 

_Popescu’s hair grows back in a few weeks and he never thinks about cutting it again._

_It’s moments like this he misses the most about Romania, little spaces of sunshine he feels like putting into a memory jar, just so he can remind himself they are real. It’s warm memories that help him remember the world can be a pretty great place._

 

_xxx_

 

The words die on Alin’s lips as he finishes telling the other about this segment of his past. He isn’t sure if Niko is asleep or not by the time he’s done. Sure enough though he gets an answer,

“Your father was a fucking piece of shit,” the Bulgarian grunts, apparently still awake.

“That sounds like something grandpa would say when he’s not in the mood,” Alin chuckles, mind flying back to his older relative he misses more than  words  can express.

“Mmm, grandpa Popescu must be a wise man,” Nikolai points out, “Just like me,”

The Romanian rolls his eyes, leave it to the other to give himself some praise. Not that he doesn’t love it.

“So…you see I’m not all sunshine and puppies, either,” he mumbles, “And you haven’t even heard all of it.”

Nikolai meets his eyes, green falling over brown, offering sympathy,

“Allie, I’m starting to think none of us is,” he begins, a lazy sigh flying past his lips, “Guess we all are fucked up in the head, one way or another.”

Popescu chuckles, “Yeah, you might be onto something. But hey…at least we’re can be fucked up together?”

The Bulgarian grins at him,

“Look at you all swearing and shit, I’m starting to rub off on you, aren’t I?”

Alin glares at him,

“I was trying to be nice, you asshole,”

“The most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” Ivanov proclaims, but then he moves closer to him, wraps his hands around him and pulls him close, forgetting about the injuries for a second.

Popescu struggles with something witty or nice to say but his mind stays blank. He doesn’t think there is anything to say, the whole situation sucks. But for the first time in his life he isn’t too concerned with it, perhaps because this time he isn’t alone, for once.

When he looks up Nikolai is fast asleep and so he closes his eyes falls asleep too, snuggled up against the other.

 

xxx

 

Going back to school after the break feels weird, almost as if the events during winter break were some sort of surreal dream. But Alin knows for sure they happened as Nikolai is still sleeping in his bed every night and even his mum seems to be okay with that.

What she _isn’t_ okay with is the whole situation surrounding him, everything the Bulgarian is part of. She has begged them to call the cops a million times already but Nikolai’s stubbornness knows no end.

And so, they’re left somewhere in the middle, having to satisfy with the fact that at the very least he isn’t going back to Ivan.

Alin sits at his deck, taking in the well-lit classroom. It feels normal and mundane, going to school, meeting the others. Usually he would call it boring but these days he’s discovered new found beauty in boring. Niko isn’t with him, he’s skipping school for a few days, until the bruises fade a little so the others don’t ask too many questions. He isn’t too worried, he’s staying with his mum and she isn’t one to let him out of sight.

“Hey,” he hears a familiar soft voice and turns around only to face Francis.

Normally he would have been happy to see the charismatic blonde but now all he feels is anger ignite in his chest. A million questions, demanding for answers flood his mind as he squints his eyes at the other.

“Hey,” he seethes, not bothering to say anything further.

Francis stands next to him awkwardly, apparently wondering what to say next,

“Uh, may I sit next to you?” he tries, a guilty look over his face.

Alin pauses to take a good look of him and it’s only now he notices the other looks like shit. He’s pale, his normally nice light tan gone. His dyed hair is a mess, long stands sticking in all directions, while brown roots pop up at the top of his head. And for the first time in well…ever he’s wearing some crumpled tee and a pair of simple jeans, coupled with black vans of all things. It’s not the French’s usual pompous style, and even the intriguing smile is gone from his face.

The Romanian can feel himself soften, he’s always had a kind heart, he can’t stand to see others in a bad place. Still he can’t forgive him, not after outing Nikolai.

“Fine, sit,” he says in the end and the other is all too quick to obey, offering him a genuine thanks.

Francis fidgets with his fingers, showing an uncharacteristic nervousness which doesn’t suit him in the slightest.

“So…you’re probably wondering what happened,” he begins, unable to wait any longer, “I mean I owe you an apology,”

“You owe Nikolai an apology even more so,” Alin counters, surprised by the intensity of his own voice.

“ _Oui, oui_ ,” the blonde is quick to agree, looking away, “What I did…Alin, you have to believe me…it, it wasn’t on purpose. I never wanted Nikolai to get hurt.”

“Well, he did…the moment Radko heard about it, he and Niko had one hell of a fight.”

Francis pales, the guilt in his eyes intensifying. He holds his head in shame,

“I’m so, _so_ sorry.” He says, voice genuine, “I-I swear I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t mean for Nikolai to get hurt…or Alfred.’

The other’s words take Alin by surprise,

“Wait…Alfred? What do you mean Alfred got hurt too? What on Earth did you do?”

Francis opens his mouth to tell him but it’s just then that the teacher walks in and leaves them hanging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, of course I had to end this on a cliffhanger, haha! What did you think of the chapter? Thoughts on Alin's past and how it formed him to be the person he is these days? And also, yeah, there will be more to it!  
> Last but not least - any guesses what Francis did?


	20. We're Only Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter, it’s on the longer side and it offers a lot of context for the other characters and adds some world building to the story as a whole.  
> Bonus Level of Enjoyment: Listen to the song “I’m Only Human”, I think it’s amazing and very meaningful.

 

_**Chapter 20: We’re Only Human** _

 

“Tell me everything,” Alin demands, the second the class is over and him and Francis are alone in the halls.

The French hesitates only for a second too long before a sigh flies past his lips and he begins, going back to the very start,

 

xxx

 

_Francis has liked Arthur since…well ever. He can’t remember the first time he realized he had feelings for the boy next door, it’s almost as if those emotions were always there._

_He still remembers when the Brit moved in the “haunted” house next door and they were both four years old, mere months apart. (Naturally Francis would always rub it in his face that he was 3 months older and a few centimetres taller.)_

 

_xxx_

 

_Kindergarten and then preschool and junior high – all of that is full of Arthur, full of little moments between them._

_Hiding in the bushes while they listen to their parents talk about “grown up stuff”, learning to read, write and everything in between – all of that they do together.  And it’s a competition, each of them struggling to one up the other, prove who is who._

_When it comes to Francis, it has always been about proving himself_ **to** _Arthur, not_ **against** _him._

_The Brit has always been one to radiate confidence like the sun, his tongue as bitter as the beer his dad drinks. Even as a small kid he’s always one to pose as better than others, smarter than adults and more sure about himself than anyone Francis has ever met._

_At first he wants to be the English boy and it’s only so much later he realizes he wants to be with him._

_But he can’t tell him either, as he knows that will be the end of the competition – Arthur will win once and forever and worse – leave._

_So Francis hides it all between the jabs and insults they throw at each other. He hides his admiration in berating the Brit for the few things he isn’t good at. Things like cooking and making friends – perhaps the only two things he  is able to take a victory from._

_He is terrified of the other finding out how much he likes him, how much he marvels at all the things he does. And so he participates in their rivalry, in the fights, the endless battles about who is better, even if he never means any of it._

_For Francis the real battle begins the moment he finds out just how much he has always liked him._

 

_xxx_

 

_It’s Francis that has his first “real” kiss on the lips and he classifies that as his greatest victory till date at the age of ten. It’s something he sticks in Arthur’s face every chance he gets, lest he forgets it._

_He tells him all about how nice the Belgian girl is, how cool everyone else thinks he now is – being all grown up and acting like a **real man** , _

_Every time he says it Arthur frowns, his impossible black eyebrows furrowed together. At first Francis loves it, he lives to tease the other and relishes in getting a reaction from him…because after all hatred is the only reaction he can evoke from him._

_But after a week or so Arthur starts avoiding him and Francis’ little victory goes down the drain, so does his mood._

 

_xxx_

 

_Three days without his unannounced best friend and he’s ready to all but cry for the other’s forgiveness, his pride be damned for once. He finds him in the backyard, by the small pool. It’s June, summer vacation is almost upon them which means Arthur will be leaving in a few days for Norwich where he can spend the days with his grandparents._

_At the thought of summer without him Francis’ hearts constricts painfully, all the more reasons for him to apologize._

_He debates on what to say, all the while spying at the other from the bushes._

_“You should come out, you look bloody stupid hiding there,” he hears the voice he’s come to know anywhere._

_Of course Arthur must have heard him, he’s never been able to surprise him_ _with anything, the other is always ten steps ahead in every game they play._

_He can’t think of anything witty to say, so he comes out of the bushes, a little flushed, walking up awkwardly to him._

_“If you’re here to tease me about your stupid kiss again,” Arthur begins, his tone one of threat, sounding as if he has rehearsed the words, “I’m going to call the police and ask the nice lads there to take you to prison! Without the chance of parole!”_

_Francis rolls his eyes, leave it to Arthur to use words for grown-ups. He’s probably spent half the afternoon reading on parole. The small thought makes him smile, it’s just one of the things he’s come to like about the other._

_“What are you smiling at, you bloody frog?”_

_(Arthur calls him that because his first pet was a frog they found by the river and he’s never, ever letting that go)._

_“At you,_ **mon ami** _,” Francis replies theatrically and now it’s the other’s turn to rolls his pretty green eyes._

_He sits down next to him, on the little sun chairs by the pool. It’s a nice summer evening, the ones he loves all too much as they speak of some long forgotten romance his mum used to read him about from old French books._

_God, he misses her._

_“I’m here to say sorry,” he blurts out before he loses the will to apologize, before his pride takes a grip of him again, “Teasing you…wasn’t nice. Mum wouldn’t have approved that.”_

_Arthur meets his eyes and for a brief second there the arrogance is gone. There is no cold in them, no challenge, no competition. For once the Brit isn’t his rival, but rather the kid next door, the one he sees like a brother and the one who is his best friend._

_The one who stood by him at his mother’s grave and that was one of those only moments when they actually hugged._

_“Apology accepted,” Arthur concedes, not without a melodramatic sigh and sticking his nose up high, for good measure, “I knew you wouldn’t last a week without me anyway.”_

_Francis snickers at his words but they’re true. He has always marveled at how grown up he acts, how he can make the simplest gestures almost magic._

_They stay like that for a few moments, the soft summer breeze playing with their hair. He looks at the other, his hair is now longer and it looks nice, naturally blonde locks falling over his pale face and messy brows which add a good measure of mischief._

_“You know, now that it’s pretty dark, you’re not_ that _ugly,” Francis tries to joke, making his tone light hearted._

_(That’s actually code for how pretty he finds him but he’s never, ever saying it loud. Not because he doesn’t want to but because the other is never going to speak to him again if he does say it.)_

_“You trying to kiss me too?” Arthur criticizes, squinting his eyes into a scowl._

_Francis can feel his heart going a hundred kilometres an hour, he licks his lips, tries to look cool and casual._

_“Would you like that?”_

_The Brit turns away, but he can still see the faint red over his pale face. It makes something in his chest melt, he looks adorable._

_Francis feels a new found courage wash over him and he steps up, acting on impulse, not thinking it through. With one quick step he’s over to the other, putting his hands over his shoulders._

_To his surprise Arthur doesn’t push him away, he looks up and meets his eyes, green falling over blue. He searches for the familiar arrogance or the flashes of animosity but they’re gone. He reads something else, something new and mismatched…embarrassment. It feels strange, unnatural even that the other might be embarrassed._

_In Francis’ eyes Arthur has always been the strong one, the one with all the answers, the one with the quick mouth and a good pair of fists. Now though he seems like the younger kid next door who doesn’t have any friends at school and hates the fact he’s no longer back in England._

_“I’ve never kissed a girl…”Arthur begins, tone uncharacteristically small._

_It evokes something in the French, some need to protect him, to pull him close and never let go. For once he feels like the stronger one and it’s invigorating, it makes him do things he never thought possible._

_“I know that,” he tries to joke but the other shakes his head,_

_“I…I don’t think I want to kiss any girls.”_

_Francis is so caught up by surprise he feels the breath knocked out of him,_

_“If-If you tell anyone I swear I will kill you!” Arthur threatens, taking his shirt into his fists and bringing them closer in doing so._

_“I won’t, I promise,” the taller kid counters, shaking his head frantically, trying to offer reassurance. And not because he’s afraid of him – he knows an empty threat when he hears one, but because he wants, no needs, the other to see the friend in him._

_“Good,” Arthur grumbles, looking away._

_They stay in silence for a few more minutes as Francis searches for some magical words but finds none._

_“Do you think you want to kiss boys?” he asks in the end, voice a little sheepish and his cheeks flushed._

_The Brit doesn’t answer at first, he gulps and looks away._

_“That’s okay…I mean you know the Browns family – they’re really nice and the whole neighbourhood likes them. So…” Francis tries to sound as gentle as possible…”I mean if you want to kiss boys only…I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”_

_Arthur doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at him but he can almost hear the wheels turn in that brilliant mind of his. Francis struggles with what to do next, what to say, to pull back or not. But he doesn’t want to step away, he feels the other’s fingers at his chest, still clinging onto the fabric of his shirt._

_A frantic idea, a revolutionary thought torpedoes through his mind, now or never,_

_“I’ve thought about it too…you know, kissing boys.”_

_He says it so quickly, anyone could miss it but Arthur doesn’t. For once he seems to listen,_

_“I figured,” he barks back, as if on cue, “You want to kiss everyone,”_

_Francis is about to argue, that no thank you – there are plenty of ones that he deems un-kissable but then-_

_Arthur’s kissing him._

 

_xxx_

 

_It happens so fast, so shockingly that Francis almost falls into the pool and loses any cool he might have had when he was kissing the Belgian girl._

_This is different, this means something more than proving himself before the other kids, making it look cool. This actually changes things and he knows it’s not just one of those silly childish kisses he is bound to forget in a few years._

_It’s sloppy and weird and Francis thinks how Arthur is doing it the way he does everything else – taking control, forcing things to work._

_But…it feels good. Not perfect, not skilled, just good, like when you jump into the sea the first day on your vacation and the promise of a whole new experience lingers just underneath the surface of the water._

 

_xxx_

 

_In that short, sweet moment in early June it’s just the two of them and their friendship feels like the end of Francis’s world._

_But it’s not just friendship – oh, God he wants it to be so much more than friendship._

 

_xxx_

 

_The next day Arthur flies back to England where he gets to spend the entire summer. They spend it in between the pouring rain and the meadows and the hot boredom of the small American town._

_Francis thinks about him all the time, every thought of his having a bit of Arthur coiled around it._

_But they never talk about the kiss, almost as if it was something that didn’t happen and sometimes he ever wonders if it was real or a midnight summer dream._

 

_xxx_

 

_When Arthur comes back they pick up right where they left off – with the quarrels and arguments and Feliciano throwing them cute looks and telling them,_

_“Guys you fight like a married couple!” as he giggles and pokes Ludwig in the ribs, “Don’t they!?”_

_Francis meets Arthur’s eyes and they’re still as stony green as ever, as if he’s taken a small piece of the damp meadows in his motherland and brought them to sunny America._

_But the Brit is changing, getting taller, his hair now stylized a bit better, clothes only a little less absurd. And Francis finds out the more he stares, the more he likes the view._

 

_xxx_

 

_The next few years fly by on autopilot as life often does when you’re a preteen. Soon enough they’re in high school but they’re still the same neighbouring kids who bicker to no end and still have sleepovers after watching Doctor Who episodes for the umpteenth time, on Arthur’s request._

_But those sleepovers never turn into anything more and the Brit always slaps away the bottle of wine he has at hand._

_Francis dates a lot, both guys and girls alike, a whole plethora of people, all in the name of forgetting the one person he actually wants. Not that there is anything wrong with sex – to him it is something beautiful and sensual, something no one should be depraved of by morals or otherwise. But it’s just that he craves **more** from one person only._

 

_xxx_

 

_“You ever feel stuck in these bloody suburbs?” it’s Arthur that asks one, when they’re both a little drowsy on one of those countless sleepovers when they’re supposed to study._

_They have a geometry test tomorrow, on a Friday nonetheless. Francis mentally swears at it – it should be considered a crime to hand out tests on the last day of the school week, when you can almost taste the weekend._

_Of course Arthur is the only one actually studying, while he relies he’ll either cheat from Ludwig, alongside Feliciano or maybe charm the teacher away until she lets him pass. Both are likely._

_“You feeling all existential crisis now, mon ami?” he tries to joke, raising a perfect blonde eyebrow._

_Arthur scoffs and Francis can’t help but smile at the way he shakes his head, dark blonde locks over unruly black eyebrows. It’s an amusing sight which has become so ingrained in his life at this point he accepts it as a part of the décor._

_“It’s just that nothing ever happens here,” the Brit rants on, casting a glance outside the window, as if longing for something far away, “We’re stuck here and it feels like the end of the world. Each boring day a mirror of the other,”_

_Francis chuckles,_

_“And they you claim I’m the overdramatic one,”_

_“Oh, screw you, bloody frog!” Arthur snaps, throwing him the kind of glare that could murder a guy, “I was sharing.”_

_“We friends now?” the French smirks, trying to ignore how fast his heart beats, how much he depends on the simple answer._

_He sneaks up on him, wraps his hands around him and pushes them both over the bed. Arthur pouts and glares but doesn’t fight. There’s something oddly insecure in his green eyes, almost like he for once doesn’t know what to say._

_It reminds him of that day – so long ago it’s like part of another life – when they were just kids and kissed by the pool._

_“You wanna do something that’s not boring, mon ami?”_

_The Brit’s eyes widen a bit, almost as if for once he doesn’t have control over the script. It gives Francis the needed push and so he leans over, taking his lips. This time the kiss is different, better, more mature and skilled. Arthur still isn’t the best of kissers and he strongly doubts he has all that experience._

_But it doesn’t matter because it still makes his heart slam against his chest, pure adrenaline pulsing through his veins. When they break apart they’re a little breathless and Francis gleefully finds out Arthur is staring at him, mouth agape, like a little child in a candy store._

_He looks as though he wants more of it, more of him and that look in his eyes is like a drug to the French._

_Without thinking he goes on autopilot, going lower, tugging at his jeans and unzipping them,_

_“What are you bloody doing, frog?” Arthur demands but there’s a hitch in his voice._

_“You said you were bored right?” Francis asks, raising a blond eyebrow and sending him a wink, “So, I say – give you something to remember me with,”_

_The Brit nods after what feels like the longest seconds of his boring teenage like and he kneels down and takes him in. Arthur moans, adrenaline shooting up straight to his brain, making him almost blank out from the sudden pleasure._

_Francis knows how to give a blowjob, knows how to make him almost go mad and then stop, make him plead for more._

_It’s then that for the first time in their relationship Arthur actually begs him for anything, green eyes wide with lust._

_He finishes so fast Francis almost debates on making fun of him but saves it for another time._

_“You might as just be good at something, frog,” Arthur says as they lie in bed that night._

 

_xxx_

 

_The French sighs because that’s the most he’s ever getting out of him – a sloppy, backhanded compliment after blowing him. Not that the shorter teen even considers returning the favour._

_And the worst part of it – Francis is ready to all but beg for more, the other’s affection having become a drug he cannot live without._

 

_xxx_

_From then on it’s more of the same._

_Occasional blowjobs and handjobs when they’re supposed to study for the next test or even when they’re under the bleachers and Francis shuts him up, long fingers pressing against Arthur’s mouth so no one hears them. The Brit both hates and adores it – the thrill of doing something he’s not supposed to, all the while claiming this is not what he wants._

_But he never returns his affection, never once even touches Francis._

_“Just so we’re clear, we’re not in a relationship,” the Brit tells him each time, when he lies in his bed, boxers pooling around his ankles, his dick soft after he’s pleasured him._

_The French winces at the words but doesn’t say anything, he merely jokes,_

_“Oh, why would I ever want to date an ugly guy like you?” he asks, flashing him a pearly false smile, “I have my standards.”_

_And his standard is one – Arthur – but he never says it out loud, never gives him the pleasure of seeing how vulnerable he truly is._

_It’s okay, Francis tries to tell himself, as long as he has the teen to himself, he can be content and on the rare occasion when he throws him a sliver of affection – remotely happy._

_Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t find pleasure elsewhere, his sex life has always been one worthy of its own blog._

_(It’s only because of the Brit’s warnings he doesn’t start said blog. But, for the record, Gilbert thinks it’s an awesome idea.)_

 

_xxx_

 

_Francis sometimes feels like things will never change and they’ll always be the two teens next door for such is the effect of high school – you think nothing changes until it all does._

_In the French’s case the thing that changes it all has a name, is tall, blue eyed and having that million dollar smile that Old Hollywood used to gush about._

_And his name is Alfred._

_From the moment Arthur sets his eyes on him, Francis knows he’s lost the game even before it has begun._

 

_xxx_

 

_Time flies by and soon enough they’re in the eleventh grade with Alin now in class, doing the impossible and dating the one guy Francis would never think of Bi – the Bulgarian delinquent._

_He feels nothing short of admiration for the Romanian, since after all Nikolai looks like the kind of guy for whom difficult is all but a soft word._

_He gets closer to Alin, the two share secrets and he enjoys seeing the foreigner flush when he talks of his boyfriend. Francis treasures it, he relishes in the feeling of finding a friend – for it is such a rarity for him to have a relationship with anyone these days._

_Arthur and Alfred are now happily dating, the golden couple of the school no doubt. The quarter back and the smartest guy in school – ah, it seems like a match made in Heaven, even if it’s Francis’ personal Hell._

_His phone rings and he cocks an eyebrow – after all the Brit never calls these days and he can’t even remember the last time they had a chat that was something more than him throwing insults._

_“Oui?” he answers,_

 

_xxx_

 

_“Wait…so you’re asking me to teach you how to cook?” Francis asks, bemused._

_The shorter teen is already as red as a tomato in the face but he struggles to nod nonetheless,_

_“You don’t have to rub it in my face, frog,”_

_“Careful with the insults or you’re not getting any advice for free,” he counters, still amused by the sight of the other actually asking for something._

_Arthur sighs in his typical – I’m so much better than this – type of way,_

_“Look, I’m only doing this for Alfred,” he grunts, burying his gaze somewhere over the Persian carpet, “The idiot loves food and well…Valentines is coming.”_

_Francis feels as though someone’s dealt him a kick in the teeth. There’s one long moment when he can’t say a thing, afraid if he that his voice might break in two._

_It’s stupid – he already knows Arthur has chosen Alfred over him but it still hurts each time he’s reminded. Not to mention there’s something especially sad and pathetic in the fact that he’s helping his hopeless crush to make his boyfriend happy._

_Not that he can say, no, never._

_“Look, bloody forget I asked,” Arthur grumbles, mistaking his silence for a refusal._

_He catches his hand as he’s about to leave, makes him turn around,_

_“I didn’t say no did I?”_

_(When does he ever?)_

_The Brit’s lips stretch into a calculative smile,_

_“Thank you,”_

_Francis nods, taking in the bitter sweetness – it’s the first time the other thanks him and it’s not supposed to feel this way._

 

_xxx_

 

_He doesn’t know how it happens and he hasn’t planned or even dreamed of this._

_But they’re both drunk on the cooking wines and soon enough Arthur’s kissing him, pale hands rummaging all over him, plump lips sucking at his neck,_

_And he cannot pull away._

_“A-Arthur,” he moans, in between the kisses, “We cannot do this?”_

_It’s not a statement, it’s a question, one that he doesn’t have an answer to himself and hopes the other tells him the right one._

_The Brit scoffs at him, his entire being oozing so much confidence it should be illegal,_

_“Francis, quit shitting me, I know you’ve been in love with me or whatever for the last… ten years or so.”_

_The French can feel his sides burn but the other quickly erases any thoughts away as he tugs at his pants, already unbuttoning them,_

_“You’ve probably jerked off to me every night so, I’d say you better appreciate this,”_

_Francis gulps, a sudden bout of guilt and insecurity washing over me, almost drowning the lust. Almost._

_“What about Alfred?”_

_“He’ll never find out,” the Brit shoots back, green eyes now wide with lust as he pushes him against the wall._

 

xxx

 

_Francis has never thought he’d have Arthur on top of himself, pale skin now flushed and glistening with sweat. Grunts escaping his parted lips as he thrusts into him._

_It feels amazing, better than he’s ever thought it would._

_But even then, even when they have sex, which is what he’s lusted over for years, even then he knows it’s wrong._

_Each movement, each sound they make is soaked in guilt._

 

_xxx_

 

_“Arthur told me everything,” Alfred says a few days after, face emotionless for the first time in well…ever._

_Francis feels light headed as he hears the words, wishing that he could hide or maybe run or…something. Something that would erase the horrible look on the American’s face…that helpless, joyless look which contrasts so starkly against his larger than life personality._

_“He-he told it was the gentleman thing to do,” Alfred snickers, shaking his head, “I’d say staying faithful and not fucking others behind my back is what a gentleman would do,”_

_There’s one long, tense moment of silence between them,_

_“Alfred, I am so, so, so sorry,” he says in the end, voice small and colourless, a shadow of itself._

_“I…I know why you did it,” the taller boy sighs, “I know you’ve been lusting over him since well…ever. I guess he was another conquest to your list,”_

“He’s so much more than that,” _Francis thinks bitterly, the thought burning his mind but he never says it out loud._

_“I just…I don’t get how he could have done it!” the American screams, fury now flashing through light blue eyes, “I mean I get it – you’re a whore, sleeping with another man’s boyfriend is not beneath you but he…”_

_The sentence hangs in the air and Francis doesn’t even have the strength to get insulted by the harsh words,_

_“I thought he was better,” Alfred whispers in the end and now he looks like a small child, one that has lost his balloon and doesn’t get why it flew away up to the sky._

_“It’s all my fault,” the French begins because even now, even after everything Arthur has done to them both, he needs to protect him._

_“Don’t.” the taller boy snaps, voice now so strong it could destroy empires, “Just fucking don’t.”_

_He leaves him at that and Francis has never hated himself so much._

 

_xxx_

 

Alin gapes at him, unable to believe what he has just heard. His mind flies to Arthur and then the image he has about him plunges into the depths of hell. How could he? And Francis too…

“You screwed up,” he hisses at him to which Francis only sighs, taking his head in his hands.

“I’m such a horrible person,” he whispers, voice breaking in two.

The Romanian doesn’t have to look at him to know there are tears in his eyes.

“I’m starting to think we all are,” he mumbles in the end, realizing that even the supposedly perfect guys at school are far from it.

It feels stupid now – the way he admired them, the way he thought they were something more than him. In reality though they’re all humans, they’re kids still, they make mistakes, hurt others and get hurt themselves.

Suddenly the things Niko has done don’t appear so bad, they don’t contrast so harshly against the rest of the world and now that the pink illusion that’s it perfect is tainted with black as well.

“Francis…I-“ he begins, words dying on his lips, “I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I can’t excuse your actions but at least you love Arthur. What he did on the other hand…that has no excuse in my eyes.”

The French opens his mouth to protect the Brit but then he closes it, looking away.

“Arthur says I provoked him,” he whispers to which Alin feels anger ignite in his chest,

“He was the one that screwed up the most. He knows how you feel about him, I’m sure about it. He even told you that!”

The French is unable to respond, he can’t even look at him.

The bell rings in the end and the taller teen bids goodbye, darting off away from him. Alin bites his lip, he’s worried about Francis, no matter how angry and disappointed he is at him.

 

xxx

 

Nikolai feels weird as hell about spending the days with Alin’s mum. Not that he doesn’t like her – she seems like an amazing woman and just about the best mother one could ask for.

But it’s still weird to hang out with your boyfriend’s mum of all people.

He tries to keep himself buys by helping out, as much as she allows him, having in mind he’s still injured.

He even helps her cook,

“Your meals are delicious,” Mrs. Popescu gushes, the exact same way Alin does when he gives him a treat,

The Bulgarian feels his lips stretch into a grin, what he loves the most about cooking is the satisfaction in people’s eyes as they try his meals.

“You should pursue this,” the woman adds, voice now gentle but firm, “You have a talent. And neither now or Alin will let you waste it.”

Nikolai looks away, unable to come up with what to say,

“I-I’m not sure I can…having in mind my…well the way I am. The way my family is,”

The older Romanian looks up from the dish, easily catching her eyes. He muses how they are the exact same colour as Alin’s – a peculiar dark shade of brown, with the tiniest bid of a red tint.

“Nikolai, I can tell you from experience you can and you will.”

He can feel warmth spread in his chest, the simple words giving him more belief in himself than any “helpful” educational video ever can.

“I mean I ran away from an abusive husband and came all the way to the US alone with two children,” she adds, voice now light but still the implications behind it strong, “So, I’d say anyone can do whatever they set their heart to. You just have to be brave enough to face your demons.”

 

xxx

 

Alin and Niko lie in bed that night as the Romanian can’t help himself but tell him everything about Francis and Arthur.

The Bulgarian doesn’t seem too surprised but then again he’s never been a fan of the Brit.

“You know,” he begins, changing the topic in the least smooth way imaginable, “I think it’s time I finger you. Or maybe you blow me, whatever floats your boat.”

Alin can feel his jaw drop at the words, taking aback yet again at how incredibly straight forward the other is.

“Or-or maybe not, if you’re not ready. I was just messing with you, to see your reaction.”

“I-I am,” the Romanian is quick to assure, he’s thought about them together more times than he can imagine.

Plus, as his mind reasons, a blowjob is the smaller step.

“I don’t want to push you into it,” Nikolai says, eyes now soft as the moonlight illuminates them.

Alin marvels at their colour yet again, mesmerized by the light shade, the way it looks different under each lightning.

Now the green is subdued, a gray tint to it.

He pulls the other close, seals their lips together.

“I am ready,” he repeats, “Just…maybe you should work on being a little less straightforward?”

The Bulgarian chuckles at him,

“Mmm, oh you bet we’ll have tons of foreplay,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Not what I meant,” Alin rolls his eyes but he’s still amused.

It’s then that the doorbell rings and he stares at the clock, it’s ten thirty already.

“I guess that’s not the boy scouts,” Nikolai jokes but then his phone pings and the Romanian knows already that has to be Ivan.

He sighs heavily – he’d just mentally celebrated _“a few days without a terrifying Russian.”_

Before he can even speak out, Ivanov pales before him, he gets up and darts towards the door.

Alin can’t do anything but blindly follow, worry already clouding the edges of his mind. To make things worse, his mother is out of town, she’s with his sister, going on another ballet tournament.  

Did Radko telltale about him and Niko? What if Ivan wants to beat them up or…worse?

The Romanian stares in horror as he sees Ivan at the door, leaning in heavily against the frame, almost as if he needs the extra support.

“Ivan, what the hell happened?” Nikolai all but screams and Alin realizes why – the Russian looks like crap.

Braginski is pale, his skin almost translucent, clashing horribly against dark circles under his eyes. His hair is a mess that sticks in all directions, light strands now dull and lifeless.

And most shockingly of all – there are tears in his eyes. Popescu cannot believe the sight, rubbing his eyes as he thinks this must be a scene from a dream.

“I-I can’t believe-…” Ivan begins, voice snapping in two, “Radko…he’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Drops the mic.)
> 
> So…how was that for an end? Just kidding, what did you think of the chapter? Were you surprised of Francis and Arthur sleeping together? Or in other words – do you want to punch our beloved Brit in the teeth?
> 
> How is Alin’s mum for a motivation speaker?
> 
> And isn’t Nikolai just horrible when it comes to being subtle?
> 
> Last but least…Did you expect those final words of narration? (Or do I just suck at foreshadowing xD) Anyway – thoughts on how Radko must have died? Please share if you have any because I absolutely adore hearing your interpretations!


	21. On the Edge of Desperation

 

**Edge of Desperation**

 

It takes Alin a long time to grasp what is happening, for the words he's heard to finally sink in his mind.

"How?" is all Nikolai asks and the Romanian can only guess he's asking about the how.

And Ivan explains, in between a few stray tears which he wipes away with the back of his hand, as if he doesn't want anyone to see them.

"Radko was alone in the bar that night. And from what I hear, some Croatian guys walked in,"

"Let me guess, he picked up a fight," Niko sighs heavily, head in his hands.

The Russian nods,

"I _told_ _him_ not to pick up fights when I'm not around, he just never listened," he says, voice wavering a bit before he goes on,

"Radko provoked the fight and it got bad fast, before anyone could tell what was going on he hit some guy in the face and the others jumped in,"

The words are so simple, so clichéd Alin feels disgust mixed in with a sense of powerlessness raise somewhere in the back of his mind.

It's stupid, it's _absurd_. Like a badly written twist in an Eastern European TV novella.

No one should die like that in the 21st century, in a bar fight because of their own inability to let go of hatred for others.

"I should have been there," Ivan whispers, voice full of so much guilt and regret it shocks Alin when he hears it,

"Oh, Ivan," Nikolai half jumps from his seat, moving closer to the Russian and wrapping his hands around him, "This is not your fault. You can't blame yourself for this!"

The blonde shakes his head,

"Of course I can. Had I been there, Radko wouldn't be dead."

The Bulgarian bites his lip, hesitation written on his face,

"You know how Radko was. You know he was always asking for trouble, always looking to pick up a fight. And you couldn't have always protected him,"

"Yeah, because I fucked up,"

 _"_ _Не!_ _"_ Nikolai half shouts, "Because you can't protect a person from themselves. What happened is a tragedy but you can't blame yourself for it."

Ivan looks away, shoulders slumped in defeat. He doesn't appear to believe it, even as the Bulgarian tries to console him, offer comfort.

There's a beat of silence and Alin debates on leaving as he realizes he doesn't have a place between them, it's a moment that is theirs and not his to share. It's not his grief, not his tragedy.

"The police barged in the bar and now…they'll know everything," the Russian says after a while,

Popescu senses a wave of shock wash over him, as he is sucked into the whole ordeal once more, just as he was about to leave,

"Does that mean Nikolai goes to jail now?!" he cries out, words flying out of his mouth before he can stop himself,

"No." Ivan shoots rights back at him, voice carrying more certainty, more weight than he thought humanly possible,

"I'll take full responsibility, make sure no one else gets hurt,"

"No you fucking won't!" the Bulgarian shouts, large green eyes now full of determination, "If you do that you go straight to fucking jail, you're already older than eighteen!"

"So?" Ivan asks, apparently unfazed,

"I can't let you do that, Ivan! I'll take the blame as well, I'm only seventeen, so they'll just send me to Juvie and-"

Alin's mind goes blank for a second, the scene before him blackening around the corners,

"You can't do that!" he finds himself screaming, desperation poking from the edges of the words, "Not after you've changed so much, you've been doing so much better,"

Nikolai meets his eyes, suddenly full of sadness and regret,

"Allie, I'll be back before you know it," he tries to assure, to calm him down as he steps closer towards the edge,

"No, no, no! I'm not letting you go anywhere," he argues fanatically, unwilling to let the other get hurt – not after what they have built together,

"And neither am I," Ivan asserts, his voice one that bears no objections,

The Bulgarian crosses his arms over his chest, his evident bullheadedness coming to the surface,

"So what I don't get to have a say?"

"No. Radko is dead and I'm not going to endanger you too."

The Bulgarian opens his mouth to argue but all words die on his lips as he sees it's a lost cause, as he realizes once Ivan sets his mind to something there is no force on Earth that can change his decision.

 

**xxx**

 

Alin doesn't know what do next. Should he offer some comfort to Ivan? Won't that count as hypocrisy? He doesn't like the guy a bit and although it's touching to see how much he cares about Nikolai that still doesn't change the fact he's homophobic and abusive, a drug dealer and an overall terrible person.

"What about Katya and Natalya?" it's the Bulgarian that asks, face pale and worried,

"They're with the neighbouring lady and they're fine…as much as they can be,"

The green eyed boy nods, a tiny sigh of relief flying past his lips.

Ivan catches his gaze, a serious look in those almost colourless blue eyes,

"When I'm gone…" he pauses for a fraction of a second, waving away any protests the younger teen might have, "You have to take care of them. And I know you will, maybe better than I ever have."

"You've done a perfect job," the Bulgarian tries to assure and Alin silences any words of disagreement he has,

"I did what I could. And I don't regret the choices I made as there were no other. I was choosing between one wrong decision and another," he licks his lips, apparently finding it hard to continue, "But you don't have the heart to be a criminal, I've always known that."

Nikolai wants to say something but nothing comes to mind and so the other speaks on,

"So just…live your life in a good way, right?" Ivan finishes off, voice breaking a little, "And take care of Katya and Natalya as I know you will and maybe come visit in jail when you have the time?"

"Of course I will!" Nikolai cries out, as if that's a given as much as the fact the sky is blue that way. As if he cannot imagine a life without the Russian in it.

Alin stares at the scene, feeling like a bystander, like he's watching a movie, something he's not part of but he's still invested in, something that's affecting him.

A fraction of him wants to protest, he wants the Bulgarian to cut off all connections with Ivan, he wants the blonde to become a thing of the past, a distant bad memory. But he realizes that can't happen, he means too much to Nikolai, he is still his family.

And good or bad, Alin knows how important family is.

 

**xxx**

 

The next morning Popescu wakes up alone in bad and it takes a long while for him to realize what's going on. Then the memories from yesterday flood his mind and leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Not bothering to switch from his pink pajamas, he gets up from bed and tiptoes across the hall, stopping dead in his tracks as he takes in the view in the living room.

On the couch Nikolai and Ivan are still asleep, snuggled in against one another.

The Romanian doesn't feel any bitterness or jealousy, he's mature enough to know that's a different kind of bond but just as strong as the one he shares with the Bulgarian.

Alin wants to leave as he realizes it's not his place to interrupt but then Nikolai moves and props himself on his elbows, rubbing away the sleep from his green eyes.

He slowly gets up, careful not to wake up the older boy

 _"_ _Добро утро,_ _"_ he greets awkwardly, hands in his pockets as he refuses to meet his gaze,

"Morning," Alin mumbles, unsure how to deal with the entire thing.

There's a beat of silence between them and it feels tense and unnatural, as though something is out of place.

"Come on, let's go to the kitchen, Ivan needs sleep," Nikolai suggests and leads the way to the other room.

There he busies himself making breakfast, his movements more rushed than needed. Popescu vaguely realizes the other probably isn't hungry, he just finds solace in doing something familiar, busing his hands in way he must hope would distract him until for one blissful second he forgets.

Alin takes a deep breath, he needs to address the elephant in the room, sooner or later.

"Are we going to talk about it?" he asks sheepishly, leaning in against the counter of the kitchen. Trying to look casual, inject some normalcy in the whole madness the way he's learnt to do from the Bulgarian. It's a coping mechanism as good as any other.

Ivanov freezes for a fraction of a second, his grip on the jar of mustard tightening,

"What use is it to talk about it?" he grunts in the end and Alin can almost see the walls he surrounds himself with come back up, hold him at distance.

"Do you…I mean, will you miss Radko?"

There's a pause, longer than necessary. In the end the Bulgarian leans over the other side of the kitchen counter heavily, turning to face him. The look in his green eyes is lost,

"I know I _should_ miss him. He was my family. But…" he leaves the words hanging in the air, "But we were never close. He hated me and I think he hated the whole world for that matter."

Popescu nods, mind flying to the troublesome Serbian. The racism, the homophobia, the overall cruelty that he surrounded himself with. The way he believed those things helped when in reality they were destroying him.

"I don't miss him," Alin blurts out, "He was mean and arrogant and bigoted."

Nikolai sighs heavily,

"He still shouldn't have died. No one deserves to die so young."

The Romanian stares at him, taking in the statement. Nikolai doesn't say it out of obligation, out of a need to be politically correct like most people do these days. Like when some musician dies and suddenly everyone loved his music though they never listened to a song of his the day before.

With Niko it's different, evident in his light eyes he genuinely believes it,

"You have every right to hate Radko," Alin points out, "And yet you still say something like that."

The Bulgarian shrugs, busying himself once more,

"You're such a good person," Alin spills to which Nikolai only turns around, the smirk having returned to his face. It's a mask after all, one he uses to put up a distance between people, make sure they don't get to know the real him.

"Mmm, don't get used to it." He says, trying to insert some humour and Alin thinks how the other would be laughing even at his death bed, that's just how he deals with things.

Popescu walks up to him on autopilot, wrapping skinny hands around him as he tiptoes and seals their lips together.

"You know you're not going anywhere…right?" he demands, words laced with a bit of desperation.

Nikolai opens his mouth to protest but then closes it, letting himself have this moment of intimacy as he kisses him once more, soaking in the pleasant light of the early January morning.

 

**xxx**

 

Alin is left alone as Ivan and Nikolai head home, so they can put things into motion, whatever gruesome meaning those words have.

The Romanian fidgets with his fingers, unsure what to do once the Bulgarian leaves. The whole situation weighs him down, the absurdity of it, how ridiculous Radko's death is.

It makes the whole day somber, despite the sun shining bright outside. His mind is flooded by a sudden wave of appreciation for his life, his family which minus his troublesome father has always been there for him, supporting his every step, offering guidance.

And his motherland as well – he feels a wave of nostalgia wash over him, he misses the place more than he ever has in his short life as an immigrant.

Romania may not be rich or all-powerful like the USA but it's _his_ , a tiny fraction of land that he and another nineteen million people call home. And there, somewhere in that massive number of people, of lives and connections between them are his grandparents.

Alin feels his heart throb with regret as he realizes how long it's been his last call. Without thinking it through he grabs onto his phone and dials the number he knows by heart. The tone dial seems to ring forever in his ears.

"Hey…grandpa," he greets simply, releasing a breath he hasn't realized he's been holding for so long,

"Allie!" the older man cries out, the joy in his voice evident, "Allie, you haven't called for so long!"

"I'm sorry…" he mumbles, realizing his mistake,

"It's okay," the other assures, "But…has something happened?"

The younger Romanian licks his lips, a small sigh flying past his lips,

" _A lot_ has happened,"

And he goes on to tell him everything, like the times when he was a kid and he would share his entire world – every part of it with his grandparents and they would just listen and make him feel like it would all be okay because they were always by his side.

 

**xxx**

 

It's dark when Alin finally hears a knock on the door and he leaps out of bed, knocking the book he's been reading on the floor and dashing to answer.

Against the doorframe Nikolai leans in heavily and he can tell immediately the other is drunk.

"Oh, Niko…" he mumbles, silently grateful his mother and sister are still away as he doesn't want them to see him this way.

"Sorry," the Bulgarian comments, slim pale fingers still clinging onto a bottle of cheap vodka,

"It's okay," the Romanian says out of habit, pushing away the anger and disappointment which bubble up his chest.

He's dejected by his boyfriend returning to his old ways, falling back to the abyss. But even more so, he's worried he may not be able to catch him.

"What happened?" he asks sheepishly, taking a step towards the taller teen and ignoring the usual smell of alcohol, mixed in with tobacco which assaults his nostrils.

"Ivan wanted to get drunk one last time before jail," Nikolai admits, words warped through the filter of heavy Slavic accent and intoxication,

"Oh," Alin mumbles, sensing he should have expected such a turn of events, "Come on, let's get you inside,"

He stretches out a hand and takes the bottle away from the other, sighing as he notices it's already empty. Nikolai hesitates for a second, as though he's planning on leaving and it makes his heart slam against his chest,

"You _are_ coming inside," he asserts, surprising the both of them with the strength behind the words, "I'm not taking no for an answer."

The Bulgarian opens his mouth to protest, purely out of habit but then closes it and offers a tiny nod. Alin takes his hand and leads the way, mentally noting how cold the other is, missing a jacket and sporting nothing but an oversized sweatshirt which he ties to Ivan.

"You should eat something," he points out as they enter the living room but the other shakes his head,

"Already did. Katya would never leave us hungry,"

The Romanian nods, a smile tugging at his lips. But its short lived as his mind flies back to the Ukrainian girl and it fills up with sympathy for her as well. She doesn't deserve any of this,

"How is she holding up?"

Nikolai shrugs, unable to put into words the emotions which Alin can read on his pale face,

"She…wasn't close to Radko either," he admits after a pause that goes on too long, "But she blames herself…I told her it's not her fault, she couldn't have protected him."

Popescu nods in agreement,

"She's done more than enough," he comments, his own dark brown eyes filled with genuine admiration for the older girl, "I don't know her well but she seems like such a caring and kind person,"

"She is," Nikolai is quick to assure, "She's the best sister I could have asked for."

He bites his lip,

"And…it breaks my heart she feels guilty when she did everything right for me and Radko. It's not her fault he didn't want to change, that he clung onto hatred."

"You can't save some people," Alin comments, words flying past his lips before he can stop himself.

The Bulgarian snaps in his direction, green eyes now full of hurt.

"You…really think that?" he asks, voice so small he finds it hard to tie it to him,

"Oh, Niko…" the Romanian starts, the realization of his mistake dawning on him, "I didn't mean it like that,"

The other looks away and Alin can feel his heart constrict with sympathy, he wants to offer comfort and reassurance but his own insecurity prevents him from it.

"Let's…go to bed?" he says in the end, taking his hand once more and all but dragging him towards his room, trying to ignore the way Niko sways a little too much on the way.

Popescu shakes his head – his boyfriend has almost inhuman level of alcohol tolerance, so he doesn't want to consider the amount he must have drunk with Ivan.

And what's even worse – how bad he must feel to drink so much when he was doing so well.

 

**xxx**

 

Despite all the drama Alin falls asleep as soon his head hits the pillow and Nikolai – even before him. He's still amazed at the other's superpower to sleep anywhere, anytime but he just writes it down in the long list of the Bulgarian's peculiarities.

It's not until much later in the night that he hears some strange, muffled noise, waking him up. Popescu is ready to ignore it and snuggle right back into the pile of warmth that his boyfriend is.

His hand stretches to feel the other but then all that happens is him touching the empty sheets of his bed. That makes him sit up, drowsy brain finally making the connection – is Nikolai making that sound?

And then something clicks and he realizes that sounds like crying. The sudden notion knocks his breath away and for one long second he has no idea what to do.

Should he pretend to be asleep? _No._ He can't ignore the other, can't let him suffer when he's just a few steps away.

"Niko?" he asks carefully, voice so soft he sounds like he's trying to comfort an injured kitten,

He finds the Bulgarian in the bathroom, squatting on the floor in his sweatpants. His face is red from crying, his hair sticking in all directions. Alin is taken aback he still manages to somehow look beautiful, even in such a situation.

Nikolai doesn't even notice him at first which alarms further and suddenly he feels light-headed, helpless before the intensity of the scene.

"Niko?" he calls out and the other finally looks up, green eyes widening in shock as he takes him in,

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out, only a quiet, strangled sob,

"Niko, what's wrong?" Alin asks sheepishly, taking carefully measured steps until he reaches his boyfriend and sits on the floor next to him, cross-legged.

The Bulgarian flinches away, as if he's scared he might hurt him and that worries him further.

What feels like eternity passes in the quiet silence of the night as Ivanov struggles to take a shaky breath, calm himself down.

"You shouldn't see me like this," he manages to croak in the end, voice strained and wavering a bit,

"Why not?" Alin questions, leaning in and hovering a small hand above the other before putting it on his shoulder and offering a tiny squeeze.

"Cause it's fucking pathetic for a man to cry," the Bulgarian mumbles, looking away.

"That's just some stereotype about gender roles," Popescu points out which oddly enough makes Nikolai chuckle and he counts it as a victory,

"You sound like some girl on Tumblr," he comments, trying to joke but it doesn't work this time.

Alin notices the way his hands shake a little and all he can do is snuggle closer, in some vain attempt that just being there will offer the needed comfort. He wraps his hands around the other and Nikolai responds right away, pulling him in.

It's weird to the point it feels almost unnatural. The Bulgarian is usually like stone – tough and unmoving. He has a sharp tongue and quick fists and he looks like nothing in the world can bring him down.

But now…now he looks so small and broken that Popescu has to struggle to accept this is real, this is just another side of him he's tried to hide so far. And he realizes this is probably the tiny six year old Bulgarian who lost his father. The one that was dragged to a country he didn't know and all he had as comfort was Radko _\- of all people -_ for the longest time.

There's an even longer stretch of silence and Niko's breath evens out as he feverishly wipes away the last few stray tears.

"I don't wanna end up like Radko,"

The words dissipate in the darkness and yet they echo in Alin's brain for what he knows will be the rest of his life,

"Oh, Niko," he mumbles, "Of course you won't."

The Bulgarian laughs at him but its mirthless and cynical, it sounds _wrong_.

"Why the fuck not?" he demands, some anger to his words, "You really think we're all that different? I'm the same fucked up bastard he is!"

Popescu is taken aback by the claim for it's so far away from truth it couldn't be more of a lie. What surprises him even more is the fleck of self-doubt, the underlining self-hatred behind his words.

It shocks him because – isn't self-hatred his own domain?

Then again, as he's slowly starting to learn, everyone seems to have their own demons to tame. And maybe the only way they can do it is together.

"No, you're not!" he asserts, voice bearing so much conviction it takes by surprise the both of them, "You're nothing like that monster!"

"You would never hurt an innocent girl. You would never try to rape a woman who says no to you,"

The Bulgarian offers a tiny not, as if he can accept that,

"And you would never beat someone up just for being gay," he adds, "The first day you helped me out without even knowing me."

"Not a big deal," Ivanov mumbles, "Anyone would've done it,"

"No they wouldn't," Alin asserts,

Nikolai finally seems to cave in, his usual bullheadedness dissolving somewhere in the black of the night.

"Even if I'm not as bad as Radko…do you know how many other Serbians have died like this?" he asks, voice seemingly stern but helplessness still poking from the edges of the words, "Or Bulgarians? Russians and Ukrainians and everyone else?"

Popescu bites his lip, unsure of what his reply should be. He might be Eastern European and yet…Romania is different. Alin hasn't thought much of it but these days he realizes how starkly his motherland contrasts against the rest .

His country is _at peace_. It's not perfect but it's doing better. The gay community is slowly getting more rights and the advocates for it grow by the day. There are protests against corruption, a demand for justice. The country is making _progress._

Romania is not locked in an endless cycle of war, hatred and vengeance the way so many are.

And that – _peace_ – is something Alin realizes people, including him do not value enough.

Because he can see what the absence of it does to people, how hatred, garnered with the scars of the past warp the human psyche, how every war leaves ripples in time and space.

"I sometimes feel like I'm supposed to end up in jail, or dead like Radko," Nikolai adds, pulling Alin away from his little introspection as he looks up and takes the other in.

"That's just some bullshit."

The words are so strong, they seem to shock the both of them and manage to yank the Bulgarian away from the edge of desperation. Popescu normally never swears and so he knows he's gained his attention.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is you can be and do whatever you want," he explains, "And before you start saying you can't, yes you can. You're one of the strongest, smartest, kindest and most interesting people I've ever met."

Nikolai offers the smallest of nods, blink and you miss it. Still, having in mind his bullheadedness Alin writes it down as a win.

"Not to mention, I'm not letting you go anywhere." He adds to which the other has a strange reaction,

It alarms Popescu as he takes in the worry in his eyes. They're bloodshot and he notices how they look blue instead of green. Alin doesn't like blue.

"Allie…about that…the police might still want to lock me up, regardless of what Ivan tells them.

 

**xxx**

 

At first the Romanian is terrified from his words, the notion hasn't crossed his mind. Then his brains leaps into action, drawing various plans, branching out, coming up with ideas.

And in the end he knows what he must do. He just hopes it works.

 

**xxx**

 

The next day he leaves Nikolai with Katya and Natalya and heads towards the one person he never thought he'd pay a visit to.

He rings the bell, praying the other is home. And fortunately he is - as soon as he comes out his light eyes widen in an almost comical way, evidently taken aback at his appearance in his home.

"Alin was it? What on Earth are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, not my strongest chapter but still...  
> Thoughts on Ivan being selfless? Ah, I swear Russia has a good side too, don't know he's always portrayed as the go to bad guy xD
> 
> Do you think Nikolai is going to evade jail? And who do you think Alin went to ask help from?
> 
> P.S: I promise next chapter will be a bit more light-hearted and we will *finally* get some things going between the two XD


End file.
